The One With the Serpent Tongue
by Shadow of an Echo
Summary: Harry Potter defeated Voldemort at the DOM, the price he paid for the permanent protection of his world is exile. He finds himself in the hands of an entirely different prophecy. His task: protect the Godslayer. Crossover with Belgariad. Slash Harry/Silk
1. Poledra

The One with the Serpent Tongue

Summary: Harry Potter defeated Voldemort at the DOM, the price he paid for the permanent protection of his world is exile. He finds himself in the hands of an entirely different prophecy. His task: protect the Godslayer. Crossover with Belgariad.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the Belgariad series. Harry Potter is the creation of the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Belgarion and his crew is the awesome creations of David Eddings.

Rating/Warnings: M, due to war violence, language, loss, and slash

A/N Alright I just want to say before we get into the story that my crossover style is meant to be enjoyed by anyone, therefore I do a lot of seemingly obvious explanations to the people that know the stories. To read my stories you really only need basic understanding of one side of the story the rest will be explained. Not to mention I like twisting cannon around so much it's probably better to have only a very basic knowledge or you could get cranky with me.

The story will not place him immediately at the start of the Belgariad I am going to dip into information acquired from Polgara the Sorceress and Belgarath the Sorcerer to introduce him, and the readers, to this world.

Prologue:

Earth: England: Ministry of Magic: Department of Mysteries.

"Kill me!" A young man screamed as pain beyond anything he ever felt before went through his body.

"Harry no, I won't!" An elderly man with a long stick yelled back to the boy on the ground, the stick in the old man's hand was trained on the boy, it held steady even as the man had tears running openly down his cheeks.

"Kill Me! I have him. Dumbledore do it. If I die so does he!" The one on the ground answered back in a raspy, hollow, voice not quite his own as he battled the other force in his mind.

Cold laughter echoed through the room erupting from the boy, but it was not the boy's laugh. The boy screamed again as the Dark Lord currently possessing his body tore into his nerves, it was pain worse than the Cruciatus ever thought of being. The boy ruthlessly attacked the presence in his mind trying to cage it within him, it hurt so bad tears were in his eyes and he was hoarse from screaming. Still fighting the Dark presence the boy begged to be killed once more. "Do it now!"

"I'm so sorry Harry," The old man whispered before gathering himself to say the curse that rivaled the pain of any he had uttered before, "Avada Kedavra!"

The boy on the ground, Harry Potter, felt his world go dark at the same time he heard the awful shriek of his rival's pain as the bright green curse struck their combined body.

Western Kingdoms: Tolnedra: Eastern Mountain range: Cave of the Gods

"Aldur my son, are you prepared to take on a new apprentice?" UL the father of the Gods inquired.

"Yes father, but why have I not sensed this new one like all the others?" Aldur asked sensibly. Aldur was UL's eldest son.

"He was not ready to be found. His journey has been a long one. I will retrieve him now that I have your answer." UL explained simply.

"Very well Father," Aldur submitted to the older being's will. "When will he be joining his brothers in the Vale?"

"When he is ready I will send him." UL said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "One of your daughters shall guide him at first before joining you because he will have a lot to learn." UL conceded to telling his son that much.

"I have an inkling who you mean; she will be a good choice." Aldur approved even though UL really didn't need the approval.

"I will go retrieve him now then, but give him time to come to you." UL warned.

"Yes Father," Aldur acknowledged the warning.

:No discernable time or place:

The welcoming darkness was warm and comforting in contrast to the pain he had endured. Harry Potter felt his awareness return to him while cocooned in this warm blackness. He was content to float in seemingly perfect solitude for the rest of eternity. He vaguely remembered the battle he had just been in and a shadow of curiosity lingered over the fate of his rival. As indeterminate moments passed he felt those slight attachments to the earth lift from him.

He slowly became aware of a growing presence in the endless vacuum. It was a presence far stronger than he had ever encountered. He dreamily wondered why he would be feeling a presence like that when he was dead.

Luckily for Harry, the fog cloaking his mind was lifting in direct relation to the growing presence. He knew something of great importance was about to happen when he saw a tall figure, well walking wasn't the right word, gliding towards him. This being had the appearance of an aged man, but the presence coming off him in steady waves opposed the elderly looks.

"Harry Potter, I have come to offer you a choice. The universe is far from done with you. The evil you have locked within your mind still exists, and there is a way to destroy it for good, but it comes at a price." The being said in a powerful, yet calm voice.

"What is the price?" Harry asked warily now in complete control of his mind once more.

"Leaving everything and everyone you love behind. At the moment your body is in a kind of stasis that is just for this conversation. The curse cast at you will not kill you, if you chose to return you will be alive in your world once again. The catch is even as you survive so will the monster inside you. Many more lives will be lost if the war on your world continues. If you choose exile you will be sent to a place in need of your aid and the evil will not be able to follow you between worlds. In both worlds, a prophecy is at play, but both prophecies have provisions for either way your choice goes. The choice is yours alone," The being explained carefully.

"I was willing to die for this world; I will not put it through any more war than necessary. I choose exile." Harry answered barely having to think once he heard more deaths were on the way. He would miss his friends and his school, but he wanted them whole and happy. If his life bought the safety of his world then he would pay the price. Even if it did sound a bit like he was leaving one war for another. Plus, he had been in technical exile from the wizarding world whenever he had been returned to his dungeon masters... um I mean the Dursley's tender loving home, please note sarcasm.

"So it shall be." The being intoned formally and Harry felt a funny wave of energy flow through him, and a feeling of motion.

Western Kingdoms: Ulgoland: Prolgu: Poledra's den

His feet hit solid ground a second before his knees hit as well. His body bent over with the return of the pain the stasis had kept away. Through the haze of pain he heard a female voice address the being that had brought him there.

"Lord UL, I see the choice has been made." The woman's voice was soft and matter of fact to the point of bluntness.

"Yes, he has come to us. He needs a new name." UL informed her.

"Galahad," the boy managed to say in a weak voice even from his pained position on the ground.

"Why?" the woman asked briskly, she was curious about the young lad.

"It means pure, the name comes from a legend back on my world." The newly named Galahad said as his strength left him and he collapsed forward into unconsciousness.

"Poledra, take care of him, he has a part to play in this tale. He must be ready to join with my son as soon as possible." UL instructed knowing a little time on the floor wouldn't hurt the boy too much.

"He will be ready," Poledra responded as she looked over her new charge. This was going to be an interesting challenge.

**Chapter One**

**Poledra**

(roughly 20 generations before the events of Belgariad)

Harry felt consciousness return to him once more, but this time there was a residual ache in his muscle to remind him that he really was still alive. Opening his eyes he was surprised to find he could see even though he was without his thick black glasses. He could only assume that it had been a gift from UL. He remembered the events before and the fact his name wasn't Harry anymore. He couldn't even remember what had driven him to pick Galahad but it just seemed to fit. He was never going back to his old world so it was time to put the name Harry Potter to rest.

Looking at the room he was in he found it to be cut from solid stone with one simple doorway leading into a dark labyrinth of tunnels. The room was small, but comfortable and well lit. There was minimal furniture, the simple straw pallet he was laying on, another slightly raised pallet across the room he assumed was for his new mentor, and a small kitchen with a dinning area containing a table and two chairs. The more he looked the more he realized this wasn't a room, this was a den.

The inhabitant of said den was standing in front of the stove stirring a simmering pot of what smelled like porridge. He took the time to actually get a good look at her, and found she was a bit taller than him with thick brown hair not quite as frizzy as Hermione's, and she wore a simple doe brown dress that reached her ankles showing her feet were bare. She was facing away from him so he couldn't tell much more than that without having to move. His attempts to do just that were painful enough to pull a low groan from his lips. The noise drew the woman's attention so he finally got a look at her face and discovered the woman was classically beautiful without a hint of make-up. It was her eyes that drew his attention the most, they were bright amber, like wolves' eyes; he had seen them before in his father's old friend Remus Lupin who happened to be a werewolf.

"Finally, One was beginning to think you wouldn't wake up despite UL's protection." She told him in the same just-next-to-blunt voice he had heard before so apparently that was the norm. He also noticed the use of the term One instead of I.

"Who are you?" He asked as he carefully pulled himself into a sitting position.

"One just is; others call One Poledra." The woman responded oddly and Galahad found himself believing he was in the presence of a wolf more and more. "One's form means little." Poledra said as if she had read his mind, and to prove her point, her body shifted into the form of a snowy owl and back again.

Galahad felt surprise, not necessary at the shifted form as he had seen Animagus wizards before, it was because when her body shifted he heard a noise vaguely resembling distant thunder; he felt the noise more than heard it. "What was that noise?" He asked curiously.

"The sound of One's Will. One rarely makes such sounds but One felt it necessary." Poledra explained and he found himself slowly getting used to the odd phrasing. It was slightly easier to understand than Hagrid's rough accent.

"Why was it necessary?" Harry asked as he felt his curiosity come out to play.

"You have to know." She explained, "Lord UL told one to teach and you must learn."

"I already know some magic." Galahad started, but Poledra stopped him.

"Lord UL warned One about that, this magic you have is not what you will have to learn here. Your Will is what you must use and the Word to unleash it." Poledra corrected his thinking. "One remembers the term 'sorcery' used by One's mate."

The mate comment definitely confirmed Galahad's suspicions, but he had to ask. "Who is your mate?"

"One's mate is called Belgarath, when you finish your learning with One you will be sent to join One's mate and his brothers in our Master's Vale." Poledra said shortly.

"Can you tell me more about them? Who is your master?" Harry asked as Poledra brought him a bowl of the porridge she had been preparing as they talked.

"My Master is Aldur the God of no people but he will take the very rare apprentice and disciples, he is the son of UL, and a brother to the other six gods that made the world. UL and the Universe are the ones that produced the Gods. The rest of them are Belar, bear God of the Alorns; Chaldan, the bull god of the Arends; Issa, the snake god of the Nyissans; Nedra, the lion God of the Tolnedrans; Mara, the weeping God, his people are no more, but they were once the Marags; and lastly Torak, the dragon God of the Angaraks.

"One's master has only a small number of Disciples; One's mate Belgarath was the first; One's daughter Polgara is at his side also; then Beldin, he is deformed in body but his mind is incredible; Beltira and Belkira, were twin Alorn shepherds before they felt master's call; they are the only ones left at master's side. Belmakor and Belsambar are no more by their own hands, and Zedar the apostate has forsaken my master and taken up with Master's brother Torak.

"Torak was a greedy power hungry god that was maimed one of master's findings, an Orb of great power. He used it to harm the earth he and his brothers created, and in return, the Orb exacted the price of this deed in the form of burning his left hand and eye where the fire burns eternally. One's mate and his brothers are fighting to end the war Torak has caused, but they cannot fight the war directly. The Gods have left the world, only to return for extremely brief periods. Torak is the only god still left on this world but a warrior guided by one's mate and daughter recently locked him into sleep.

"The Gods have issued a series of prophecies that will finish off this war. Master's disciples have been following these prophecies since they were first uttered in order to guide the war in favor of the Light." Poledra explained as Galahad ate his food.

"How many sides are there in this war? Who is fighting for what side? Why did they split apart?" He questioned after he had some time to assimilate the information, despite what certain Potion's Professors might say about him, he wasn't stupid; he had a quick mind but he simply wasn't the studying kind.

"Right questions wrong order." Poledra corrected. "The why in this situation is more important than the how and the who. The answer to the why the sides split apart is because of an accident that occurred long ago, the universe came into existence with a purpose, and an order in which to achieve that purpose, but one small thing changed that. A star died in the wrong time and wrong place, in the grand scheme of things a single star usually doesn't mean much, but because this occurred at just the wrong time something that should have happened didn't and something that shouldn't have happened did. This caused two separate yet equally valid possibilities for the future; these two possibilities have enough power that they each have awareness, the awarenesses are what created the sides in this war. As for how many sides there are two, as for who are on what side, each has an infinite amount of support from more than just this world. Though on this world it is split between the Child of Light, and the majority of the Western races; and the Child of Dark, and the eastern races; very rarely does anyone stand neutral." She answered succinctly.

"What races are there?" Galahad asked wanting to know as much as possible about his new world.

"There are the Tolnedrans, Karands, Morindim, Arends both Mimbrates and Asturians, Nyissans, Ulgos, Sendars, the Alorns were split into four kingdoms long ago creating Drasnians, Algars, Chereks, and Rivans, and lastly the Angaraks are also split they have Thulls, Murgos, Malloreans, Nadraks, and the priesthood called Grolims which are nearly indistinguishable from Murgos. There are scattered groups called the Godless ones but they blend in with the surrounding race." Poledra explained patiently. All the names were starting to give Galahad a headache.

"One believes that is enough history for today. If One is correct you will be seeing many of them on your journey, just knowing they exist won't help you unless you go and meet them." She took pity on him seeing the tell tale signs of information overload taking over her young charge.

"UL has provided you with clothing, one suggests getting up and changing we need to begin working on your Will." She stated patiently with a slight nod to the end of his palate where a small pile of clothing, made out of what appeared to be leather and cotton, sat folded in a neat stack. "He suggested you will need to become accustomed to the different mode of dress." She added for good measure.

Galahad just sighed, and slowly getting up from his palate to avoid straining his tender muscles, he complied with her gently worded command. He found the clothes he was given strange; it was a tunic made of durable cotton, and soft leather leggings that fit tightly to his skin, he assumed that the leggings would normally be made of some sort of cloth as well but UL had made concessions for his recent displacement from another world and code of dress. It would be strange for a while, but he had already learned to dress differently when he went from muggle clothing to wizarding robes. Off the edge of the palate was a pair of leather half boots, he was kind of surprised to see footwear due to her bare feet, but now he assumed hers were bare because she preferred it that way not because that was how people usually dressed.

"You look presentable," Poledra commented dryly once he had finished changing.

"Now for your first lesson in controlling your Will you must learn the rules. For the most part there is only one rule that absolutely can not be broken if you value your life at all. The universe came into beings to create things; she will not permit anyone to unmake something. Before you ask, no, killing is not the same as unmaking; if you kill something it is still there, just not in the same form, to unmake something is to remove it entirely. The next is to not attempt the impossible; you can expend so much energy you can't keep your own heart beating, but since every mind works differently and your determination greatly affects your Will, that which is impossible also varies. The last rule is more of a guideline than a rule and that is; just because you **can** do something doesn't mean you **should** do something. There will be times when you will be tempted to use your Will when you shouldn't and you need to recognize those moments and learn how to work around them." She drilled into him seriously and he listened knowing his life depended on her words.

Galahad waited until he had the rules fully understood before asking his next question, he did not want to rush his learning and miss something important. "I understand the rules and they make a lot of sense, but how do I actually use my Will?"

"You must draw the power into yourself, and you must want to do something with all your being the first couple of times, after that it gets simpler." She told him as if it answered every question he had.

"How do I draw the power in?" He asked feeling confused like he had in Occlumency training.

"First you have to know the power is there. Master much preferred the first act of Will to be spontaneous where UL believes that if the first time is too simple the novice may not feel obligated to learn control and an untrained sorcerer is dangerous. One believes UL has the right idea with no offense meant to one's master. You have already had a taste of your Will using that 'magic' UL spoke of, he mentioned your magic needs a focus object to draw it out, with Will you become the focus object. Remember the feeling you felt at the exact moment of casting your magic, which is the power you must pull into yourself now. Gather it from your surroundings; every thing, living or not, produces some of this power, you just need to borrow it. The power will be returned to where you got it from once you release your Will." Poledra explained the concept more in depth, and Galahad finally felt like he might have a chance.

"What should I do?" He asked wanting to practice.

"One suggests starting small; it is exhausting to do even the smallest task at first." She answered producing an unlit candle from thin air accompanied by the strange ringing noise. "Cause the wick to flame without harming anything else." She ordered setting the first task.

Galahad took the candle from her hand and held it stably in his own. He thought about what she had told him on remembering how casting a spell felt, and he did register that amazing rush when his wand pulled the power out of him. He also remembered the slightly different feeling of when his wand was lain his hands for the first time. He concentrated on both memories while attempting to pull in his Will.

It took awhile, and it was not easy, but he did see the faint traces of power Poledra had told him about; on the stonewalls, the furniture, and the largest concentration of power was obviously Poledra herself but something warned Galahad that it might not be the best of ideas to try and pull power from her.

His first few attempts at drawing the power into himself was difficult and yielded little results, but his ingrained stubbornness kept him on task. He grasped at the power until he could feel it growing inside of himself. Remembering what she said about words, he wondered what kind of word would work, something instinctual told him it didn't matter. He was beginning to wonder where all these gut instincts seemed to come from. It would be a kind of poetic irony if he made it this far only to find out he was insane; locked in some asylum rocking back in forth in a white coat, but again that little voice warned him he wasn't insane, and he should try to release his Will already.

He decided even if he was insane there was no harm in following along with his delusions, at least they were entertaining delusions, if that is what they were.

Concentration back on the old-fashioned tallow candle and thick rope like wick; he released the built up Will with one word.

"Light."

Seeing it work gave him a sense of pride, but swiftly following that pride was a feeling of complete and utter exhaustion. The fatigue was not quite as bad as after the fight with Voldemort, but close.

He sunk to the ground before his legs decided to give out and he heard Poledra's voice echo oddly through his tiredness, "Good work for a first try, it will get easier with more practice." Galahad couldn't help but feel some pride; he had managed to complete his first task on the same day as it had been given. This whole Will and the Word thing could end up working out.


	2. A New World

**The One With The Serpent Tongue**

**Shadow of an Echo  
**

**Chapter Two**

**A New World  
**

(Time has moved forward by about five generations since the last chapter; a generation is roughly 25 years)

**Western Kingdoms: Ulgoland: Prolgu: Poledra's Den**

Galahad had learned a lot about the world around him under Poledra's careful instruction. He learned that his initial suspicions that his host was a wolf were well founded, unlike Remus who was born a man and was changed into a wolf; Poledra had been born a wolf. She had run across Belgarath in his favorite form of a silver wolf while he was on a mission and she stuck with him. When he turned down her advances while she was in her wolf form, and later her snowy owl, she changed into the form of the women Poledra and won Belgarath in that form. That explained her strange mode of speech. In a wolf pack there is no concept similar to the word I, each member is just 'one' of many. The term yours and mine only applied to members of a different pack. She had learned to use possessive terms in her time as a human but never felt the need to learn the concept of I.

He also learned the reason she was not living with her family. They believed her dead. It was a necessary part of the Prophecies; she wasn't supposed to interfere until the proper time came. He knew she felt anger for Belgarath's choice in how to morn his wife's death. Galahad supposed he would have some problems too if he found out his supposedly grieving spouse was drowning his sorrows in poor ale and loose women for a good eight years before someone stepped in and stopped him. He found out her daughter Polgara had hated her father for this very same reason at first, but because she had a mental connection to Poledra, her mother was able to smooth ruffled feathers, at the appropriate time of course.

That mental connection was one of the more unusual things he had encountered thus far. Poledra had given birth to twin girls and they shared a mental link from birth. Her daughters were the only ones permitted to know of their mother's on going life.

He had been grieved to find out that only those gifted with the Will and the Word had an extended life and her one daughter, Beldaran, had not been given that power. Instead, she had married the first protector of the Orb, the newly crowned King of Riva. She had died early, even for a human, from a lung disease. Both Poledra and Polgara felt the loss greatly, and Belgarath had yet another death to morn but he threw himself into his tasks instead of other, less savory, methods.

Riva Irongrip and his descendants were the only ones capable of touching the Orb without the Orb burning them, unless the other happened to be a complete innocent. Galahad learned the Alorn kingdoms had been broken apart to protect the Orb. Cherek Bearshoulders had been the original king of Aloria, his three sons each became king of a part of Aloria and they named the kingdoms after the sons, Algar Fleetfoot and Dras Bullneck were the two others besides Riva. Galahad found the old custom of adding a descriptive word to a man's name once they turned of age was kind of cool, but he was glad that changed because he didn't really want puny added to his name.

Galahad had filled out under Poledra's careful eye but he will always be incredibly lean and small. He didn't like to dwell on what happened to him on his home world, but he would always carry physical reminders of it. He had some scars that refused to fade and his stature was not what it should be considering his family history. Poledra had commented that he was built like a lone wolf, but he still felt tiny.

He also noted that he didn't seem to age. While the amount of time passing was only measured in times of sleeping and waking he knew he had been here long enough to have a few lines on his face, but he appeared to be no older than the age he had been when he left his world. With a glamour he could advance his appearance to be in his mid-twenties. Poledra had explained that Polgara had stopped aging at the age of twenty-five so he fit in with her while under his glamour. Whatever their tasks would be in the future, they would appear the right age and size to achieve the desired outcome.

He had learned to use his Will to get things done. It hadn't taken him long to become proficient because, as Poledra told him, if he was strong enough to be mentioned in a prophecy then he was strong enough to learn what he needed to know. She had spent the majority of the time teaching him the finer control needed to specialize in mind magic. Polgara knew how to heal and get information from a person with her mind. Galahad was learning how to kill and control. Polgara was using fear to get what she needed; he was going to use pain. He did not like it one tiny bit, but he had to learn it.

The best thing he had learned along the lines of mind magic was how to communicate to another sorcerer with thoughts alone. Whole conversations could take place with out a single person other then his target overhearing it, unless they were actively trying to, and if they did that, you had bigger problems. Poledra had taught him how to shield his thoughts from prying minds, and he was far better at that than the feeble attempts he had made at learning Occlumency.

Poledra and Galahad were relaxing at the end of a long day of practice when they felt a familiar Presence. UL was paying them a visit.

"It is time," The ancient God warned cryptically.

"I have to leave here soon don't I?" Galahad asked without surprise. He knew this day had been coming, but he hadn't known when it would occur.

"Yes, you need to learn more about this world before joining my son Aldur. I suggest doing some traveling, and when the time comes you will feel a pull at your senses, don't fight this pull, it will lead you home." UL instructed.

"Home," Galahad whispered softly. It was a strange word to him. He really didn't have a home before he came here, and this was Poledra's home, here he was essentially a guest.

"The Vale of Aldur will be your home for as long as you are here." UL reassured, knowing what he had been thinking.

"Thank you," Galahad said reverently.

"You must first face a long journey. Travel light and learn as much as you can. No knowledge should be forsaken. Take the time to get to know this place. You will need to know it for your task." UL advised.

"I will remember that Lord UL. I will do as you have advised." Galahad responded, dropping into a slight bow to him.

To his surprise, the father of the gods bowed his head to him and faded out of sight. To say he was unnerved would be an understatement. For UL to think that highly of him, something big must be hanging over him.

Poledra didn't seem to find anything odd in UL's actions. "You will need a change of clothes, any money you have, and a good map." She said crisply, "Anything above that you can acquire on your journey."

Shaking himself out of his stupor Galahad took Poledra's advice and collected his only spare set of clothing, the gold galleons that he had found in the pockets of his tatty wizarding robes he had arrived here in, and the map Poledra had drawn him to teach him the geography of this world. The map was a simple black and white chart with neat labels, perfect for his purpose of general location and distance.

"We shall meet again." Poledra said in lieu of goodbye, and Galahad appreciated that, he never was good at saying goodbye.

"We shall," He agreed before drawing in his Will, and turning it inward to morph his body into the shape of a small black wolf.

Leaving the safety of Poledra's den, he entered the dark tunnels beyond. In the time he had been living with the wolf woman, they had spent countless hours running through the tunnels of the mountain known as Prolgu. The mountain was home to the Ulgos, when the madness took over the formerly docile creatures that shared the valleys with the Ulgos, the monsters created from the madness drove the people under the mountain. Galahad didn't think anyone could possibly know every tunnel in Prolgu, but he knew most of the paths.

Thus as he loped easily through tunnels and caverns any Ulgos he came across were only surprised at the lack of a female tawny wolf running beside him. Poledra and Galahad didn't come around on a regular basis, but it was often enough the Ulgos knew of their presence, and weren't afraid of them. The Ulgos also knew that seeing one wolf running without the other meant something big had happened.

The Ulgos themselves were a very strange race. The race had large, very dark, eyes that needed little light to see, a feature gained from living underground for so long, and skin so pale as to put milk to shame. They were a race driven by propriety and morality; they thrived under a strict code of ethics. They were quiet by nature, except for the singing. A choir of religious leaders constantly filled the caverns and tunnels that made up their home with the words to an ancient hymn; the hymn paid homage to their god UL. They repeated the hymn every hour, on the hour, and the Ulgos would continue this tradition until there was no more Ulgos left to sing it.

Ulgos had once been amongst the Godless ones, or the tribes of humans left without a god when Aldur chose solitude. The forbearers of the current Ulgos, lead by a man called Gorim, beseeched the father of the Gods to take them as his people. Through the fortitude of Gorim, they succeeded in persuading UL to become their god. The Ulgos were eternally thankful to UL and turned religion into the corner stone of their society. The name of every one of their leaders was Gorim, in honor of the man who gave them a god, each Gorim lived as long as UL wanted them to. Galahad had met the current Gorim a few times and he held a deep respect for the holy man.

Galahad had to switch back into his human form to speak to the door guardians. Prolgu had one main exit and several minor tunnel exits. He had chosen to leave by the main door, and because there were guards at the entrance at all times to protect the Ulgos, he had to ask them to open the door for him. It had taken him awhile to learn the Ulgo language, but he found it worth the effort.

The door to the outside world was actually a flagstone in the floor of a ruined building. After blinking his eyes to get them used to the dim sunlight of early morning, he looked around. The building was part of the ancient city of Prolgu, the place the Ulgos lived before they were driven under the mountain.

In this valley of monsters, Galahad knew it was better to have a smaller form that drew less attention. To travel through Ulgo, he dropped the wolf guise, and adopted the form of a simple grass snake. He knew he would be able to see the countryside better if he flew, but the tunnels did not afford him the conditions needed to practice flying, too few birds had decent night vision. He was far better off staying firmly planted on the ground for the first part of his travels, he could practice flying in the down time.

Deciding to follow the path of the sun had him heading west, towards the Arendish border. He didn't rush his pace as the weather was fair and UL told him to take his time in getting to know the place. If he came over these countries again in the future he would recognize his path from the rock and dirt. His senses opened as wide as they could go to absorb every bit of information he could about the land. He had learned that due to his now extended life span his memory would stay as sharp and clear as it was the day he learned it. He could still forget things, but that was mostly due to inattention and lack of focus.

**Western Kingdoms: Arendia: Arends: Mimbrate and Asturian**

After some time Galahad decided to forgo traveling in alternate forms. Too long a time spent as a creature had a tendency to meld the creature's instincts with your own. While he liked snakes, he didn't particularly want their mindset to take over his own too much more than it already had. He already found he could speak Parseltongue any time he wanted to, without having to be near a live snake, and he began to react to situations more like a snake would. To remedy this progression he stopped at a small village and bought himself a horse. He still didn't know exactly how the galleons had changed into the money of this world when he went to pay for the horse, but he assumed UL had something to do with it.

Galahad followed his chosen course over the border to Arendia. The northern part of the country was mostly thick forest. This was the territory of the Asturian Arends. After meeting a few of these men, Galahad had come to some conclusions about them. They were perfectly suited to living in the woods, their mode of dress was simple greens and browns to blend in with the trees, and they were some of the best archers in the world; unfortunately, he also found out the race as a whole was, umm... not quite bright.

They weren't necessarily stupid, they were just rash and impulsive, overly loyal, and lacked a certain common sense. The Asturians also fostered a fierce rivalry between themselves and their southern cousins the Mimbrates. He had only met one or two of the Mimbrate Arends, but he found that while they shared the same mind set as the Asturians, that was where the similarities ended. Mimbrates still used the archaic 'thee and thou' mode of speech, and they dressed in King Arthur type suits of armor. Their favorite weapon was by far the lance as they fought mostly on horseback, but they were no lightweights when it came to swordplay either. Mimbrates also had the tendency to believe they were invincible.

There was one practice they both employed that turned Galahad's stomach. There was a class of people called serfs. They were slaves with the illusion of freedom. They were attached to the land and 'belonged' to the landowner. It was up to the owner of the land how much of the food and goods the serfs produced actually went to the serfs. Some owners were generous, and their serfs were well fed and cared for, but the vast majority lived in squalor.

All in all Galahad found himself more drawn to the Asturians. He was interested in learning how to use a bow properly. They also had the upper hand when it came to stealth in the forests. That was what had lead him to find the former capital of the Asturian duchy. In a battle that occurred right before Galahad arrived in this world Arendia was forced to unify under a single crown; the former capital of the Asturian duchy was called Vo Astur.

He was able to use his youthful appearance to his advantage during his times with the Arends. All it took was a little sympathy in the right places; he was an orphan with no family to care for him and no home to call his own. He was able to go from teacher to teacher in the city and learn as much as he could from each one. They taught him what he needed to know in exchange for his help doing the menial day-to-day tasks. Galahad thought he was getting the better end of the deal here but didn't say that aloud.

He took to the bow like a duck to water. His lithe but surprisingly strong frame was perfect for handling a bow. He quickly caught up to his teachers in skill. This was finally something he had a natural affinity for, just as he had been a natural on a broomstick back on earth.

After his stay with the Asturians, he moved on to the Mimbrates. Using the same tactics with them as he used on the Asturians, he received lessons. Galahad found out he was passable with a lance, but was horrible with a large sword. The kinds of swords the Mimbrates preferred dwarfed him; he could barely lift it, let alone use it. He stayed long enough to learn how to speak in the archaic mode, and moved on, not spending nearly as much time with the Mimbrates as he had the Asturians.

Riding his horse out of Arendia, he left with his very own bow and quiver full of hand made arrows, plus the knowledge of how to function amongst these men when he had to return in the future. Heading south, he forded the river Arend and on the other side was Tolnedra.

**Western Kingdoms: Tolnedra: Tolnedrans, Dryads, and Marags**

The Tolnedran people were a military based society guided by an Emperor. The Tolnedran legions were some of the best-trained and well-equipped armies in the world. They were also the first society to build inter-continental highways, which webbed their way throughout the west and south.

There was only one thing that rose above the military in terms of interest to a Tolnedran mind, and that was money. They set the standards for the mining and minting of money. Their coins were of the purest concentrations, and they had the toughest laws for counterfeiters. Any important committee member or businessmen could be bought for a decent bribe. Checkpoint and customs officers could be paid to look the other way for the right price. The richer the family, the more prominence they had in society.

The only thing Galahad learned here was how to haggle down an exorbitant price. A useful skill to have, but he couldn't help but feel somewhat let down over their single mindedness towards gold. He even found out that the reason the Marags were wiped out was because the Tolnedrans found out their country was rich with gold, but since the Marags were not interested in trade the Tolnedrans couldn't get to it.

As several Tolnedran gold hunters found out the hard way, the Marags did not care for trespassers. They had a strange quirk to their society. Some priest in ancient times misread a religious text and turned the residents of Maragor into ritualistic cannibals. It was by no means a staple in their diet, but when someone trespassed onto their land, they were fair game. The Tolnedrans wiped out their entire race over that, the cannibalism was only a front; the real reason was all the gold.

The dead race haunted Maragor; the ghosts will drive any one going in there thinking of gold mad. A race died, and now no one had the gold. Galahad made the decision not to go into Maragor on this journey. He didn't care about the gold but he had seen enough death, the ghosts would not be a good thing for his mental health.

Overall, he left Tolnedra with a bad taste lingering on his tongue. The only bright point had been when he headed south once more and arrived in a large old forest. A humanoid type of creature called Dryads lived in those trees. These were living beings spiritually tied to a single tree growing in the forest. They would only die when their tree was dead. Oak trees had a way of living for centuries, giving these devious females a deceptively youthful appearance. They were the only creature he had come across without a male half of the species. They interbred with humans when that need arose, and no Dryad would ever give birth to a male child.

**Western Kingdoms: Nyissa: Nyissans and Salmissra**

Out of all the countries Galahad traveled through on his first journey on this world, he stayed in Nyissa the longest. He didn't stay out of an affinity for any of the places he found, or most of the people he met, what kept him here was the fact there was a reason the God Issa had the totem of a snake.

The countryside was crawling with snakes. He spent more time as a snake learning about Nyissa and its people from the local serpents than was really good for him, but it was time well spent in his opinion.

The Nyissans were fond of certain, how do I put this, pharmaceutical enhancements. They had competent healers but that wasn't the area of the drug market they expanded on; they had a larger selection of recreational drugs and deadly poisons than anywhere else did on this strange world.

Swampy jungles covered the country providing the perfect conditions for exotic and rare plants to flourish. With the Nyissans' reverence for snakes, they allowed the serpentine members of the community free rein inside the cities. These hardly noticed snakes were gathering a wide range of knowledge on exactly how the people used the exotic plants. Most of the serpents he came across didn't want to share information about their findings, but he managed to find a few talkative ones, and they told him some very useful things.

He spent some time as a human there, just to see how the humans really did interact. He found them to be the only human race ruled by a singular female. When the Gods were still on the world Issa had taken a handmaiden called Salmissra, when Issa went to sleep leaving the world like his brothers had, he had forgotten to bestow immortality onto Salmissra and the original handmaiden had aged and died. The Nyissan people remedied this situation by going into each generation of young girls with a portrait of Salmissra and selected twenty girls baring a strong likeness to the original. They raised the girls in the jungle to be an exact replica of the original. When the current Salmissra died, they chose the new Salmissra from among the twenty prospects, and then they killed the rest of the girls. The chosen one would move to the palace, she would officially take the name Salmissra, and then she drank a cocktail of strange elixirs that both preserved her youth and beauty, but sped up her death. Salmissra could count herself lucky if she lived to be sixty-five.

He spent quite a bit of time learning about as many of the poisons and drugs as he could. He stayed away from the healing spectrum, and the more virulent poisons, as that was Polgara's domain; but there was still plenty left to study. He didn't use a lot of them himself, as he was on unfamiliar ground, with unknown people around him; it was not the time to have his head stuffed with butterflies.

The one bad part about his time in Nyissa was all the bugs. The sky and ground were teaming with the tiny insect vermin. They got absolutely everywhere on him. He understood the custom of the males all shaving their heads; it cut down on the burrowing bugs. Spending the majority of his time as a snake left him with the ability to keep his long black hair in one piece. It was too much of a pain to grow it back out again. His wild black hair would never be entirely tamable, but if it was long, he could pull it back and not have to worry about it sticking up everywhere.

When the wanderlust finally caught up to him once more, he kept heading south. Only to find he had run out of Western countries in this direction. He was now in the territory of the Angaraks.

**Angarak**** Territories****: Cthol Murgos: Murgos, Thulls, and Grolims**

There was only one country to the south of the Western kingdoms, and that was because of the sheer size of the place. Cthol Murgos stretched from sea to sea and took up a little over half the continent. The largest portion of the country was scorched desert. Although he knew this country hadn't always been as dry as evidenced by the large sea serpent carcasses scattered around the desert floor. This drying out had occurred when Torak had used the Orb of Aldur, he literally cracked the world with it, and a deluge of water filled the crack creating the Sea of the East and leaving Cthol Murgos dry as a bone.

The Murgos were an unpleasant race. Galahad had thought the Tolnedrans were irritating, now that he knew these guys, the Tolnedrans looked a little better in his mind. They were big and menacing, as they were the warrior class of the Angaraks. Each Murgo had to offer a blood sacrifice to Torak when they came of age, before they could ever step foot in a temple, thus all Murgos had thick scars running down each cheek.

It was in these temples of Torak that he first encountered the priesthood called Grolims. They had the singular most repulsive religious act he had ever witnessed, and that included the Marags ritual cannibalism; at least the Marags killed cleanly. Two Grolims would bend a live Angarak over the altar and slowly cut out the heart of their human sacrifice. They dropped the heart on a brazier that burned eternally. They discarded the body; Torak didn't want the whole person, just the heart. They repeated this repulsive act every hour, to the sound of a large gong. They selected this sacrifice from the general population, but the majority by far of sacrifices were Thulls.

Thulls were a mulish and stupid race, they were the fenced in sheep of the Angarak world. They spent their whole lives trying to avoid the Grolims' knives. Men could purchase slaves as a substitution, and many saved money from childhood on just to buy a slave. Women had a slightly easier time avoiding the knife. The Grolims would not sacrifice a pregnant woman as it confused their count. Thull women attempted to stay pregnant at all times. That would explain how the Grolims could take so many for sacrifices and still be overrun with Thulls.

Galahad watched these senseless deaths while being consumed with hate for Grolims, and followers of Torak in general. More than one Grolim found himself with an arrow between the eyes while Galahad was in Cthol Murgos. He knew he had to be careful with that though. There were three general classes of Grolims. If they had a green lining in their black robes, they did not possess the Will and the Word, or were a novice at using it. Any other color and he was running the risk of fighting a moderate to expert user of Will. The most dangerous color to come up against was purple. The black robes of the Grolims reminded him dangerously of Death Eaters; he felt no guilt as he took these monsters down one-by-one.

He had little doubt he could win the fight. With Poledra's decades long instruction he was a very good sorcerer, and Grolims were too busy sacrificing people to practice as much as he did. The problem lay that in a fight of Will, any other sorcerer in the area is going to hear the fight, and know there is a foreign sorcerer in the area. It was much easier to kill a Grolim when they were not watching their step. It was also quiet a bit more satisfying to do it with his bow.

The only bit of sorcery Galahad let himself use was to shift forms, which was mostly internal and didn't make much noise to start with, and to call his arrows back to him after he planted them in a Grolim's skull. He slowly made his way across the county killing the vile priests as he went.

To the north of Cthol Murgos, and to the east of Algaria and Maragor, was Mishrak Ac Thull. He did not linger in the kingdom of the Thulls, well except to kill a Grolim or two. The sheer stupidity and sheepdom of the race made him move on as quickly as possible.

Then he found, to the north of Mishrak Ac Thull, the most confusing race of Angaraks by far, the Nadraks.

**Angarak**** Territories****: Gar Og Nadrak: Nadraks and Morindim**

The Nadraks were the least religious out of all the Angaraks. They managed to get on Galahad's good side because of their odd tendency to kill off their priests. A Nadrak was far more likely to kill off their cousin race rather then westerners. They took a kind of satisfaction in decorating Murgos with daggers right between the shoulder blades as well.

There was one incredibly interesting facet of their society, and it was their attitude towards women. They were bought and sold like slaves, but if you ever called a Nadrak woman a slave, or tried something untoward, you quickly found yourself at the end of a sharp dagger. The selling of females was an equal opportunity venture because the woman got half the money paid for her. If women played their cards right they could die very wealthy. Not to mention Nadrak women were far from helpless, a part of their standard dress was at least two daggers, and most carried four.

Galahad thought he could really get to like this race. He even fit in looks wise. Most of that race had dark hair and pale skin. His emerald eyes were a little unusual but they were by no means unique. After acquiring some of the local clothing, he blended in with the crowds.

During his time with the Nadraks, Galahad learned that his limitation with a sword does not apply to daggers. Watching the female Nadraks use them with cold accuracy taught him the style. Since he refused to buy a female to teach him the ways, he settled for watching and general tips. Some of the girls were willing to give him pointers just because he was a fairly well mannered man and kept his hands to himself. Their time together was short though due to the owners of the females being a bit territorial.

Galahad thought the attitude frightfully resembled the trading of thoroughbreds. He would have found the concept of ownership distasteful if it weren't for the fact the females didn't mind the situation at all. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.

Traveling north through the country, complete with his own set of four daggers, he soon left the heavily settled area and reached the mountains. For the most part the Nadraks were merchants, the trappers and prospectors up in the mountains made this trading profitable. Galahad spent some time in the mountains and even managed to find some gold. It was just a modest vein but it was enough he felt financially stable for the rest of his trip. Poledra had informed him on one of their many long conversations of the large vein Belgarath had found on his trip into the mountains, his was tiny compared to that, but he figured he shouldn't badmouth free gold.

What he found beyond the mountains intrigued him more than gold did. He had finally found a tribe of Godless ones called Morindim. To fill the void left by having no god the Morindim had turned to the worship of demons.

The dimension of Hell was a completely different place, and with the right incantations and a strong enough Will, a demon could be summoned from this dimension and forced to assume the form and function dictated by the summoner. The demons were incredibly dangerous, because if the summoner made even one mistake with the incantations the demon could break free, revert to its original form, and devour its summoner. Once the summoner was dead, it would be free to terrorize the populace in its natural form.

Naturally, the danger and mystery drew Galahad like a moth to a flame. Using the skills learned from Poledra, he was able to absorb the information on summoning directly from their minds. Normally he would be against this form of extreme tampering, but the alternative would be to take a Master and learn from him. That was a life of literal slavery to the Master and the only thing that released the student from the Master was the death of the old one. Galahad didn't relish the thought of going through that so he cheated.

The only thing he couldn't absorb directly into his mind was the tattoos. To correctly summon a demon, intricate designs had to go on the skin. If you were only an occasional summoner you could get away with drawing the symbols on with permanent ink, but with that, you ran the risk of making a small crucial mistake that let you die. Galahad wanted something more permanent, and much more reliable.

He remembered the glamour spells he had been using to age his appearance. Combining certain components of that spell, backing it up with his Will, he could now create the necessary summoning designs with a single thought. This meant ink was not permanently placed into his skin, and he wasn't sure that was such a good idea as some of his preexisting scars could interfere with the specific designs, but with repetition and his new memory, he would always have them just below the surface ready to be brought out as needed.

He did not spend that a long time with the Morindim, there was always the threat of being eaten, therefore he got the information he needed and moved on. It was time to go meet the Alorns.

**Western Kingdoms: Aloria: Drasnia: Drasnians**

The Drasnians were the single-handedly most underhanded thieving populace in the world. They were cultured and polite, but don't trust one within ten feet of your purse, and Galahad was an apt pupil. These thieves were also the best spies in the world, with more people in the most obscure of places then any other force. They even had a complicated sign language that was made up purely of hand movements. You could convey frustration or sarcasm with just a tilt of a hand. Galahad's slim form came in handy once more, as thin nimble fingers were the best for this very delicate art.

He had a very good instructor that taught him **all** of the Drasnian specialties. He would later learn this person was the head of the Drasnian spy network, and that was not the first time on this trip he felt something had been guiding his steps. He had blamed it on UL in the beginning, but now he wasn't so sure. An instinctual part of him let him know where to stop and what to learn.

He didn't just learn the fancy hand language or how to observe someone without being seen. He also expanded his array of daggers. The Nadraks still heavily influenced his fighting technique, but the Drasnians had the added skill of throwing knives. With his accuracy and aim finely honed by his skill with a bow it didn't take him long to learn this deadly art.

The Drasnians spoke to his inner Slytherin and asked it to come out and play. Add that to the decidedly serpentine cast to his thoughts from the overlong time spent in Nyissa and even Galahad noticed he was being guided in an intriguing direction. He was not trained to be a warrior he was being trained to be an assassin and the two things were very different. Warriors jumped into any fight with brute strength and perseverance. Assassins chose their targets carefully and executed them with logic and skill. He had long ago stopped fighting the darker side to his nature, instead embraced it, and controlled it.

He would be the killer this world needed. He would do the job right and do it well. He would make sure every kill would have a purpose and would be clean. He still had some morals, he wouldn't torture unless the situation called for it. Those Grolims deserved every ounce of pain but most of those kills had been clean ones anyway.

Drasnia was good for him in many ways. It definitely opened his eyes up to his own potential that's for sure. Strengths were only good to you if you were confidant enough to use them.

Now with the Chereks, that was an entirely different story.

**Western Kingdoms: Aloria: Cherek: Chereks**

Chereks were the muscle of the Alorn world just as the Murgos were the muscle of the Angaraks. They were fierce warriors, moderately intelligent, and loyal to their own. The country had been involved in its fair share of civil wars, not quite to the point Arendia had, but still quite a bit more than the other Alorn kingdoms.

They also really liked their ale. A Cherek in his prime could drink his way to the bottom of an ale barrel and still be able to fight another battle. Galahad drank it due to accessibility, but he preferred the richer mead or the sweeter wine to the slightly bitter ale.

They were predominantly sword fighters and therefore did not have much to teach to Galahad except how to function in their society. This was one case where looking like an Angarak, even a relatively harmless kind, definitely counted against him. Chereks held tight to the fact the Angaraks took the rap for the splitting of the Alorn nations. There was a price on the head of any Murgo, and by extension Grolim, caught in the kingdom so Galahad thought he was lucky to look like a Nadrak rather then a Murgo.

His stay in Cherek lasted a tad bit longer than Mishrak Ac Thull but not by much.

He did have one compliment about the Chereks; they were definitely the best sailors.

**Western Kingdoms: Aloria: Isle of the Winds: Rivans**

Taking a Cherek boat to get to Riva helped him gain access to the city. The Rivans were a little touchy about letting foreigners onto their island. Galahad knew the reason why, and he thought the Rivans had a good point, so he didn't press the issue.

The Rivan king had been assassinated by a foreign presence on the isle. The attack did not come from an Angarak. The assassins were Nyissan, paid to perform their deadly arts, and they did their job well. Most people believed the entire line had been slaughtered in one day, but Galahad knew better, the persistent rumors about a survivor drove Polgara, and by a small extension Poledra, crazy. It was hard enough hiding from the bad guys, you didn't want to have to hide from the good ones as well if you could avoid it.

Heading into the city, he found it to be the perfect set up for defense. The citadel alone was an opposing fortress that Galahad had little doubt could hold out against the strongest of onslaughts. He did not enter inside knowing an unknown vagrant would not be welcomed inside warmly.

The city was different though. The climate of the island was cold and wet, thus the standard issue clothing was a long gray hooded cloak. The cloaks were made of sturdy waterproof wool, but that which made it waterproof also prevented the cloth from accepting dyes. To compensate the inside of the dwellings, even his small room at the waterfront inn, was decorated with warmth and color.

Paintings and tapestries hung on the walls with vibrant colors. Quilts and blankets put any rainbow to shame. Plus the music, never forget the music. Long harsh winters meant a lot of time to practice, and some of the best music in the world was produced in these tiny sitting rooms on the weather beaten isle.

A very accommodating family ran the inn he stayed at. Galahad had managed to catch one of the last ships to enter port before winter made crossing the seas a harsh and risky venture. Thus, Galahad was wintering on the island and the innkeepers treated all there over winter guests like additions to their families. The simple hospitality of the people greatly impressed Galahad.

That winter Galahad picked up the first non-essential skill since he started this long journey. He learned to play a simple wooden flute. The flute was the perfect traveling instrument it could be slipped in a saddlebag, or in a pocket, and be drawn out whenever the fancy struck. He found out he had a moderately good singing voice, he wouldn't be able to sustain a hearty lifestyle on it alone, but it was agreeable enough to be a pleasant way to while away the hours.

When spring came and the instinctual urge to move on came upon him, he was surprised to feel somewhat attached to this place. He liked the company and the weather wasn't far off from the English and Scottish weather he had known before. He would not be amiss to returning to this place in his future wanderings, even as he had made plans to return to Nyissa and Gar Og Nadrak. If he stopped off to kill a Grolim or twenty in Cthol Murgos every once in a while it would barely be noticed.

He hopped aboard another ship, and this one was traveling to the last of the non-Alorn western kingdoms.

**Western Kingdoms: Sendaria: Sendars: interracial**

Sendaria was a simple farming country nestled in the midst of the Alorn and Arendia kingdoms. The Sendars were simple, honest, hardworking people. This was the cultural melting pot of the western world. There was no singular race called Sendars, there was a mindset, and a general outlook that a person developed in a few generations of living in the country.

The people were a mix of all races and gods. To make it simple to worship they did not chose one god over another, but instead worshiped all gods equally.

It was this country that reminded the few bits of Galahad that had not been trained into the part of a killer of the simple things an honest man needs to survive, perseverance and hard work heavily seasoned with honesty. He didn't think he could easily melt into the background of this society anymore, but he could have at a point in time in the past, and at a reasonable level now, he could come and go without leaving too lasting of an impression on the locals.

Sendaria had one thing hidden within its borders no other country had. The pull at his senses that had been guiding him on his journey had lead him to a moderate sized village in the countryside. In this village, Galahad met the first of his soon to be Master's Disciples he would find in the world outside Poledra's den.

Poledra's daughter, Polgara, was here within the village. He had nearly forgotten about the connection between Poledra and her daughter, and he had a sneaking suspicion the wolf woman had been monitoring him as well, until he was sitting at the back of the humble village inn and the doors opened to reveal an intriguingly familiar figure.

The woman was tall, easily as tall as most of the men of the era, and thus dwarfing Galahad. She had long black hair with a single streak of white on her left temple. She was also a near mirror perfect reflection of Poledra. There was no doubt in Galahad's mind who this woman was, especially as she purposefully made her way to his out of the way corner table.

He stood to greet her, taking her pale hand in his, "You look just like your mother." He told her softly and knowing she was in hiding but unsure of which name she had used here, he asked. "I am Galahad. Could you do me the honor of putting a name to such beauty?"

"Mother did not warn me of such charm, I am called Pol in this time and place." She answered back in a soft tone that managed to convey power and knowledge without being overstated.

"I have learned a few things since leaving her side." He answered with an easygoing smile and a small bow.

She laughed then, a simple little laugh that showed genuine amusement, as he lead her to the chair across from the one he was just sitting in. Once he had seated himself, he found himself on the receiving end of a measuring look. She took in the obvious signs of weapons, like the dagger handles in his belt, the bow strapped in place across his back, and the quiver full of his finely crafted arrows. She also noticed the odd mix of Nadrak and Drasnian style clothing.

It wasn't just with her eyes that she attempted to evaluate him. He felt the feather light touch of her mind in his own, and he relaxed his barriers just enough to let her see he was not a threat to her, or the secret she protected. He also let her see a bit of his power and some of the useful things he had learned. He tried to wall off the areas dealing with the darker side of his training. They both knew it was there but he didn't feel like confronting it on a first meeting.

"You have learned well," She finally said in an approving voice. He couldn't help the sigh of relief he let loose at that comment. He felt like her opinion counted a little more then the other Disciples of Aldur simply because of the close relationship to his mentor. If he could not get approval from Polgara than he felt he let Poledra's time teaching him go to waste.

"I had good teachers," he replied simply, trying to convey his gratitude for her mother.

"Good teachers can only get you so far, the rest has to come from you." She said almost sternly, and he had to admit that was the oddest phrased compliment he had ever received. He could tell she did have pride in her mother's work by the way her eyes had just subtly changed tone from calm gray to happy blue.

"Thank you," he replied honestly for the compliment.

"Have you met any of the others yet?" She asked conversationally.

"No, you are the first I have come across." He told her with a little smile on his face.

"The Old Wolf is going to be very interested in you, I can see that already." She commented evenly. Galahad knew the Old Wolf she had mentioned was her father Belgarath; he had heard Poledra use the same term a time or two.

"Why?" He asked curiously.

She thought about the answer for a moment, as if looking for the right words, before answering. "He was the one that got the job of training the majority of his brothers. You would be the first in a long while that trained outside of the Vale. He will want to know what the differences are."

Here Galahad began to worry, if that was how Belgarath was going to react what about the other people in the vale? With that in mind, he asked her, "What about the others?" He couldn't help but feel like a nervous child before the first day of school.

"Hmm... Uncle Beldin will want to debate with you for a while to see if you are a worthy conversationalist. He enjoys a good exchange of insults, but his mind is amazingly fast. Don't be surprised if you find yourself never winning a debate with Beldin, or if you do, count yourself lucky. Uncles Beltira and Belkira will want to feed you. You're as skinny as a rail, which will bring out their inner shepherds, and they will want to take care of you. Mother already told me you would be small, or I would be having the same reaction," With this admittance she smiled some more and Galahad scowled lightly at the thought of the over pampering.

"I'm not going to break." He told her firmly.

"I know this but that won't stop them, only time will get them to see that it won't work for you." She responded to his grumpiness with a cheery attitude that told Galahad she had spent a lot of time caring for petulant children.

"I can not stay here long. Something back home needs my attention. It is becoming more difficult to keep it secure." She said in a guarded tone that told him all he needed to know. The secret she was guarding needed to be kept under close surveillance, and it wouldn't be long before they would have to move on again.

"I will not keep you from your task then. I'm glad to have a few minutes to talk to you. I will let the Wolf know I saw you and how you are faring." He replied, letting her know he would tell Belgarath she might be relocating soon. He clasped her hand once more in good-bye, this time raising it to place a light kiss on the back of it. "May our next meeting be as fortuitous as this one has been." he said politely.

"I trust it shall." She replied positively, but there was an overcast of worry in her eyes that let Galahad know there was only a small hope that the next meeting wouldn't be for an emergency.

He watched her leave the Inn and wondered what would come of their future meetings.

Galahad headed out of Sendaria soon after his meeting with Polgara. He did not want to put her in danger by hanging around too long. Small towns had notorious gossip rings, they would talk about the handsome stranger hanging around town after meeting with Pol, and anyone looking for Polgara would notice the odd story and it might break Polgara's cover.

**Western Kingdoms: Aloria: Algaria: Algars and The Tree**

He headed east from Sendaria and entered Algaria the land of horses. This was the last of the Alorn kingdoms and the place where the best horses in the world were bred. The Algars were a nomadic people that followed their herds over the land.

Galahad made an important break through here, he found a sword he was able to use. Most other races used long swords in battle, but since the Algars were cavalry fighters, they had adapted swords. They used a thin slightly curved blade called a saber. It was designed to be used one handed while using the other on the reins of a horse.

Its small size and light weight made it perfect for Galahad. He spent a lot of time drifting from clan to clan improving both his riding skills and swordsmanship. His years of learning how to use his daggers left him a quick study with a saber.

He spent about a year there before he felt the pull again. It led him south towards the tip of the country. He forded a small river before reaching an area of land that felt different then the rest. It was even more peaceful and green then the rest of the world. Birds flew high above his head singing out their joy, deer were as docile as lambs and curious as cats, and endless plains of rich green grass were dotted with trees and shrubs. The snake in him noticed all manner of small furry creatures scurrying around.

Then he saw it, the single largest living thing he had ever seen, a gorgeous great tree. It spread its branches high, reaching out as if to touch the clouds. The trunk of the gigantic tree was filling the majority of the slight valley below. He could see all different kinds of birds and small mammals moving around on the large branches.

It was a beautiful sight and the tree drew him like a moth to a flame. The moment his hand touched the thick bark of the trunk he was lost in a world of the tree's creation. It spoke to him deep within his mind, sharing with him knowledge, and it bestowed upon him a gift. His mind was subtly altered, nothing terribly dramatic, that ancient tree simply reorganized a few sections. It helped clarify things that were cloudy and put some order into his chaotic mind. With the Will and the Word, the only real limitation was you couldn't do something your mind can't comprehend. With these minor changes within his mind, his potential for sorcery was increased.


	3. Brotherhood

**The One With The Serpent Tongue**

**Shadow of an Echo  
**

**Chapter Three**

**Brotherhood**

While Galahad was traveling around the continent, the Brotherhood of Sorcerers was preparing for his arrival. Normally when one of their brothers came to them they stayed with another brother while building their own place of study, and for the sorcerers of the vale this means towers.

Aldur had learned from his father UL that his newest disciple wanted nothing more than to have a home to come to. Having traveled as far and as wide as he did, staying with another even for the short while it took to build his tower would stop him from claiming the vale as home. He would need a place of his own, built for him, not necessarily by him.

Beldin and the twins were the ones who designed the tower, Belgarath would have if it weren't for the fact the others had told him point blank he wasn't having a part in the process, as his tower was nothing but a pile of stones with a single room at the top.

The three sorcerers spread out a large piece of plain paper before them.

"Alright, any ideas for the tower will be placed on here and we can modify them until they fit." Beldin told his brothers. With his words, he placed a very basic tower design on the paper with his Will.

"It will need to be,"

"Closer to the ground,"

"He has a preferred form,"

"Of a snake not a bird," The twins told Beldin, they easily finished the others sentences.

"Would you two cut that out, we are working here, save your parlor tricks for the parlor." Beldin told them gruffly even as he adjusted the height of the turret. "I think multiple rooms would be best, Belgarath aside it is hard to keep a single room organized when it has to serve so many purposes." Beldin suggested.

"No,"

"He would prefer,"

"The single room,"

"It will be more,"

"Comfortable for him," The twins continued their back and forth speech, and Beldin just huffed in annoyance. He was sure even they were unaware of just how closely their minds were connected.

"Alright but I still think a few storage areas would be a good idea, you have seen how cluttered Belgarath's tower got without them." Beldin argued and he received a nod from both twins so he added storage space in the heart of the tower.

"The outside should,"

"Be left plain,"

"Our brother would,"

"Probably like doing,"

"That part himself," The twins noted.

"I believe that is a good idea." Beldin agreed, not even reacting to the linked speech. It was out of habit more than anything that he reprimanded them, because after centuries of knowing them he knew it wouldn't do a great deal of good.

That was when Belgarath decided to butt into their architectural adventures with a question, "Does the boy even know his name will change?"

"If he is anything like we have been warned he probably picked up on the change already, he may not have applied it to himself, but he should be aware of it." Beldin answered thoughtfully.

"We don't believe,"

"He would take,"

"Kindly to being,"

"Called a boy," The twins gently chastised.

"If he is less than a millennium old he is a boy compared to us." Belgarath dismissed.

"Than by your standard the whole world is children." Beldin pointed out.

"Just how old is he?" Belgarath asked as it finally hit him that he didn't know.

"Three hundred and sixty five," Beldin answered easily. "He will soon be three hundred and sixty six."

"Brother Beldin,"

"We need to get,"

"Back to work,"

"Our brother would,"

"Prefer a finished,"

"Home," The twins reminded him.

"Alright, alright, back off I know. What else needs done?" Beldin asked.

"Windows and entrances," One of the twins, Belkira? No, Beltira? Oh, I give up, one of the twins managed to say without switching over; apparently, short thoughts could be completed by just one of them.

"The door should face south; the winds come across the Algarian plans harshly on occasions." Belgarath sounded proud of himself that he could actually make a suggestion.

Beldin added the door to the south facing wall of the tower. "I think the top room of the tower should have windows all the way around. He may not like being closed in after all that time traveling under the open sky." He said as he adjusted the drawing to include the windows.

By this time, the drawing on the paper had evolved into a low elegant tower, with a single room at the top, lots of windows, and a staircase that wound its way through the heart of the stones to bring him to both his living quarters and his storage space.

"That looks very good; now all we need to do is build and furnish it." Belgarath observed as he looked over the paper.

"Well than let's get this done." Beldin answered.

That was just what they did.

XXXXX

Galahad did not regain control of himself for the rest of the summer. The tree somehow sustaining him and letting him get used to the gifts it had bestowed to him. As he moved away from the tree, a part of himself became connected to it. With a fond farewell, he continued his journey in snake form, his horse having returned to the Algars during his conversation with the tree.

He followed the pull across the vale, it now becoming a dull thud in tune with his heartbeat. He knew this was because he was drawing close to his destination. In the distance, the rolling plains revealed to him a tower rising out of the earth. Although this was not a typical tower because it was two turrets connected by a sheltered walkway. The force guiding him pulled him gently towards it and his instincts told him to switch forms so he did.

The Brotherhood had gathered for supper in the twins' connected towers, the twins easily being the best cooks in the vale, They often gathered together for meals and the towers they chose to occupy for the occasion switched around.

When a whisper of Will reached their ears, they knew to be alert. Belgarath and Beldin went to the window while the twins went about calmly filling another plate. A waved hand from one of the twins had the door to the tower sliding open to welcome the newcomer.

When the two old men at the window finally saw the person crossing the plains, they took the time to study his appearance. He had wild black hair tied back loosely away from his face. He wore sturdy clothes of leather and animal fur in a mix of styles but predominately Nadrak and northern Drasnian. His face was finely chiseled with slight roundness giving him a youthful appearance.

"He doesn't look more then sixteen summers." Belgarath said with disbelief.

"Looks can be deceiving Belgarath." Beldin warned gruffly as he caught sight of the small arsenal of weapons partially concealed on the new sorcerer.

Beltira and Belkira didn't bother to inform the other two that they had been contacted.

"_May I join you?"_ The voice in their minds was low and polite.

"_Yes you may."_ The twins told him in their usual cheerful voice.

With that, incredibly soft footfalls could be heard coming up stone steps. The twins had their suspicions that the steps could be completely silent if the other wished it.

After asking for permission Galahad walked into the tower making sure he could be heard if anyone bothered to listen as it was impolite to startle your host. The staircase led to the top of the tower, with a few solid wooden doors leading to other areas of the tower on the way up, which Galahad noted, but didn't inspect.

At the top, he entered the room to see four aged men, two of them standing and appeared to be arguing, the other two sitting patiently at the table. The two at the table were completely identical as far as Galahad could see, both with kind faces, sparkling eyes, and well kept white beards. The two standing couldn't be more different. One was a short misshapen dwarf, with unkempt hair and unwashed body. The other was taller than Galahad with grizzled gray hair and beard.

"I take it you are Galahad?" The one Galahad was sure was Belgarath asked.

"Yes," Galahad answered, and the others were surprised to hear a slight almost hissing quality to his voice.

When Galahad saw their expression, he immediately knew the cause. "Sorry about that, I have been in my snake form for awhile, the hiss takes a bit to go away." He explained without prompting.

"That's is fine,"

"Now come and,"

"Sit with us,"

"Supper is getting cold,"

"And you are rail thin." The twins at the table told him as he got a small smile on his face remembering another set of twins.

"I will," He answered them and slid into a place at the table that had a full cup of ale next to the plate, the others all having drunk from theirs.

"Let me introduce us, I am Belgarath, the twins are Belkira and Beltira don't try to tell them apart as we are not sure they can, and lastly Beldin." Belgarath introduced pointing them out one by one and ending at the dwarf.

"You already know my name so I don't really have much to introduce." Galahad said with a small smile as Belgarath and Beldin joined them at the table.

Feeling hungry after crawling all that way as a snake Galahad took a few bites of the steaming stew at a much more graceful pace than Beldin or Belgarath. With a sip of the ale to wash it down, he got a pleasant surprise. His normal dislike of the drink was not present; this brew was somehow different and entirely agreeable.

"You two are marvelous cooks and I have never had ale quite like this before." He complimented the twins as he had connected the oddly configured tower to the correct owners and therefore the preparation of the meal.

"Oh thank you,"

"When you have,"

"As much time as,"

"We do to practice,"

"You can acquire,"

"Many skills," The twins easily brushed aside the compliment.

"Hey cut it out you two, he is new to us." Beldin chided them again.

"Its fine Beldin, they are not the first set of twins I have come across that do that. I can follow it just fine, and it might be uncomfortable for them not to." Galahad soothed as he correctly read the situation.

"Oh you must tell,"

"Us all about your,"

"Travels as we rarely,"

"Venture from the vale." The twins asked eagerly.

"Well I only traveled on this continent so far there was so much to learn, I was pulled here before I could cross the sea. I spent the most time in Nyissa and Gar og Nadrak. Oh and Belgarath I saw Polgara in Sendaria, she will need assistance soon." Galahad made sure to tell him about Pol before they got to talking too much for him to remember.

"Is she alright for now?" Belgarath asked with concern.

"For the moment she is fine, she just said it is getting harder to hide what must be hidden." He told him seriously.

"Did she tell you how much time she had?" Belgarath asked.

"No, but I followed something to get me here it wouldn't want me too late." Galahad reassured.

"I will go to her as soon as it is light tomorrow." Belgarath decided.

"Why tomorrow?" Beldin asked gruffly even though Galahad could see the worry he had for Polgara.

"Because tonight we need to get our brother settled," Belgarath told him. "I trust my daughter she can hold out another day."

"Where am I staying?" Galahad asked carefully.

"If you are,"

"Done eating we,"

"Can show you?" The twins offered excitedly.

Galahad looked down and was surprised to see he had already finished his meal; he had to have been eating like a wolf. He looked around to see other cleaned plates so he didn't feel quite as out of place.

"Alright, let's go." Galahad agreed.

The four older sorcerers led the way out of the tower and across the grasslands of the vale. It was a decent stretch from the twins' tower to the newest addition to the vale.

When Galahad first caught sight of the low stone tower and gleaming glass, he felt his heart stop. It was just perfect for him. He was very surprised and grateful when he was led to the door, and let inside.

He saw similar storage to the twins' tower, but decided to continue climbing and see the rest. The top room was cozy with a raised palate in the corner, a serviceable kitchen, and more bookshelves than he could count. A desk and chair sat against one wall that looked to be hand carved out of wood. There was a table in the kitchen area big enough for all five of the brothers.

Looking around with his mouth slightly open, the largest sign of surprise he had showed yet, he finally caught sight of the others.

"Welcome home our brother, Belgalahad." Belgarath told him with flourish.

He could not believe the gift he had been given. He had a home of his very own. Something he could alter and change to suit his needs and not worry about anyone else. He wandered around the tower both in human and snake form just to get the feel of the place.

It was just next to perfect, with a few minor changes it would be. The floors were too cold for a snake; a soft layer of smooth carpet over top of the stone took care of that. The plain outside was shifted to be made out of the same gleaming white marble as Gringotts bank back on his old world. It was the one last reminder of his old world he allowed himself. He had yet to regret his decision and he refused to start now.

He had some thinking to do too. His new name, Belgalahad it was almost too presumptuous for him. It was very formal and while he appreciated the meaning behind it, something told him the full name was not to be used lightly. Of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, he was the least known, including the twins, who despite hardly leaving the vale left their legacy amongst the old stories still circulating around. If he wanted to retain that anonymity, he would need two personae, Galahad for everyday usage but Belgalahad for important matters.

His new brothers understood his decision to drop the Bel for privacy's sake. They had carried the title for far too long to drop it without good reason, but Galahad had his. They all wished for a touch more peace when traveling through the kingdoms.

It had not taken him long to make the changes that needed to be made. It was soon time to get down to the true purpose of the tower, study. His bookshelves were filled with books skimmed from his brother's libraries, plus a few he had gathered on his travels. He modified the shrinking charm to work with the Will and the Word and thus a whole shelf of books fit comfortably into a pocket. Once his brothers found out his means of carrying books, they were at first a bit suspicious. They all had such a high appreciation for books any kind of spell modification worried them; they believed the counter dangerously close the unmaking rule.

"What is the difference between this spell and unmaking something?" Beldin asked as Galahad carefully unshrunk and shelved the books.

"There is a large difference," He started to answer.

"Not really, you are unmaking the first change to return the book to its proper size." Beldin argued.

"That is not how this works. Once the books have shrunk, the Will makes it so that is the books normal state. So instead of removing the first I am simply casting a separate spell on the new book." Galahad explained.

"I see your point, but none of us would have tried it, too close to the rule for us." Beldin said gruffly, enjoying arguing but knowing when he was beaten.

"I saw no problem with trying as nothing was being created or taken out of existence. Changing the shape of something alters it forever, change it again, and you are altering the new item, not what you started with." Galahad explained, not sure exactly when he should mention he had practiced a different kind of magic entirely.

That is what the books were telling him anyway. The Will and the Word was based on thought and understanding, no action could be performed without complete understanding of the task. You had to visualize it in your head before it could be done, and you had to believe it was going to work. Galahad had not realized how close he came to not being able to perform it; he had been surprised the candle had lit but having used magic before he knew it was possible for the candle to light without a match.

The magic he had performed before paled in comparison. Spells were far more general then the Will and the Word. You could do something with a wand you had no intention of doing, and thus cause immense harm. He doubted he would be able to perform a Scourgify charm without breaking the unmaking rule, he didn't know where the grim went when it vanished, and so he had yet to modify it. He did his cleaning by hand to avoid the issue. In the end, Will and Magic were two different things.

Sorcery he came to believe was the wrong term for the Will and the Word despite its common usage. Sorcery was what he used to perform with his wand. He decided not to challenge the common thought, but he would also refrain from using the term Sorcery unless he absolutely had to.

He studied the nature of magic for some time. As far as he knew he was the first to go as in depth as this. The others were concentrating more on what you could do with the Will and the Word, not how they could do what they did.

Galahad wondered how much science and the laws of physics really had to do with magic. Were the two mutually exclusive or did they form a kind of partnership that what one couldn't do the other could? Magic had its rules and so did nature.

In his ponderings, he spent a lot of time as a snake observing the land and seeing the laws he had learned about in action. He knew what made life go on, but knowing and understanding were two different things. As he watched the grass growing and the animals be born and grow up, he began to understand.

Life was magic; it was as simple as that. The magic they controlled with the Will and the Word was the same magic that kept life going. It was the reason the tree lived on and on and on. The energy they drew in to perform the task was the inherit magic in nature. The laws of science were nothing more than the magic in the earth releasing in a measurable way. It was the same.

His mind reeled from the discovery. He didn't know how he knew, but he was sure he was right. There was no other explanation for what he was seeing. It was not exactly a hard concept, in fact, it was incredibly simple, but the simplicity of it made it hard to comprehend. The mind wanted to make things more complicated than they were. Something as intricate as life couldn't possibly be explained in a single sentence could it?

It did not take long for Galahad to slip into the normal routine of study and brotherhood. His tower was often littered with open books and scrolls devoted to his latest project, and it wasn't an odd occurrence for another of the brothers to be occupying the tower as well. His favorite companion by far was Beldin, who liked passing the time in the cluttered tower with a tankard of ale and a good debate.

Belgarath had long since departed to check on Polgara, he hadn't called for help yet so it was assumed all was well and he was spending a few years of precious time with his daughter, that or getting in trouble in one of the other kingdoms for awhile. When Galahad first arrived in the vale the true magnitude of being named one of Aldur's disciples was something he hadn't considered. All of the brotherhood held some sway in the western kingdoms, especially the Alorn nations. Now he knew he had made the right decision in choosing to conceal his identity whenever possible.

Even with that choice, the rumors of his arrival had begun to circulate throughout the kingdoms. It was still barely heard whispers but his name would soon be in the back of the mind of every noble in the west. How his name had spread like wildfire he didn't know, but he had a feeling someone was pulling at him like marionette on its strings. He didn't like the feeling, he had been lead around by the nose too much in his past life, but he guessed that was just his lot in life. After the first century or so of being on this world, his temper had begun to smooth out and he accepted his situation far more gracefully, but that didn't mean he liked it.

"You seem to be troubled,"

"You can talk to us,"

"About anything you need to?" Galahad had been so deep in thought he hadn't even heard the twins arrival, which was a very odd event indeed.

"There is simply a lot on my mind. Do not trouble yourselves with my problems; they will work out in the end." He replied with a worn smile to the two kindly shepherds.

"Time does have a way,"

"Of healing all hurts,"

"But perhaps time needs."

"A little help," The twins encouraged.

"I am feeling frustrated with how my life has been decided for me. I have been involved in prophecies since the moment of my birth. It is frankly irritating how little free will I have had. Every choice, every action, has a preordained reward or consequence. There is just too much pressure on making the right choice." He finally admitted.

"No prophecy is set in stone,"

"The choice of the chosen one,"

"Holds the power of the future,"

"Not the words on faded parchment,"

"Not to mention the forces of,"

"Chaos and chance have sway,"

"Over some events," The twins tried to reassure him.

"I understand that. I just don't like it. I will do what is asked of me like a good little boy, but I sometimes wish I had a normal life." He replied tiredly.

He had read over BOTH the prophecies of this world. Poledra had neglected to mention there were two interconnected prophecies. One was a garbled mess with no sense of time at all, and the other was written in riddles. The one in riddles was in order; if you found the connecting passage in the other, it explained the riddles. The twins had been given the task of trying to unlock the secrets of the prophecies, if any of the brotherhood knew what might be in store for him it was these two.

They had already discerned that there was going to be a long quest in the future. The hope of the light side would be placed on the shoulders of one person, a Child of Light, but there were companions listed because the Child of Light was not destined to be alone in the quest. Each of the companions had a prophecy name that described a characteristic of the person that would become the most important thing in the quest. His name was aptly, the one with the serpent tongue. The moment he had saw those words he knew it was talking about him, and he had finally solved a mystery that had been bothering the brother hood. They had already found the families that would produce the other companions, they hadn't been able to find two, but with his arrival, they now only had one left to find.

With what few clues they had worked out, the twins had tentatively told them that the time for the quest was drawing close, about a hundred years if they were to give a more definite approximation.

"You have been governed,"

"By a different Prophecy,"

"Haven't you?" The twins asked hesitantly, proving they were more observant than they lead people to believe.

"Yes, a very different one, but how did you know?" Galahad asked curiously, trying to deflect the questions away from him. He wasn't sure he wanted people to know he wasn't from this world. His past was over and he couldn't go back so what was the point?

"The prophecies we have,"

"Been given only show,"

"One person from birth,"

"The Godslayer, you are,"

"Not him, so we have to,"

"Assume you meant a,"

"Different Prophecy," They explained easily.

"Yes it was a different one. I was destined to destroy a very evil man. I had always assumed it meant I would have to kill him, but in the end I just had to make a choice, and that is what started my journey here." He revealed.

"Most people are too quick to kill,"

"You are wise to have found a way,"

"That didn't involve death. And yet,

"Still worked to solve your problem," The twins approved.

"I still respect the life of others, but I do not fear killing as much as I once did. A part of me regrets the change and another part revels in it. I know I can protect and defend those I need to, and I am still capable of mercy, but that is the only reason I am comfortable with the changes in me." He whispered.

"Many warriors feel the way,"

"You do, the power to take a,"

"Life and decide if it should be,"

"Extinguished is not something,"

"To be taken lightly. Many do not,"

"Have the strength to keep their,"

"Hearts from growing cold,"

"Be careful you do not share the,"

"Same fate brother," The twins comforted.

"I fear we are going to find out. This prophesized journey sounds like it is going to test each of the companions. I wonder what would happen if one of us failed, would the Godslayer fail too?" He mused, half to himself.

The twins didn't answer him and soon shifted the conversation away from such morbid topics. They sensed their youngest brother still harbored a great deal of pain. They wondered if that pain would help him or bring him to ruination, as long as it didn't turn into anger he had a good chance of coming out of the journey stronger, but that was a very large what if.


	4. Into the Roses

**The One With The Serpent Tongue**

**Shadow of an Echo  
**

**Chapter Four**

**Into the Roses**

Something was wrong. The brothers in the vale could sense something horribly and evilly wrong spreading steadily through the world. The very rock and soil of the earth were crying out against something. Galahad felt this encroaching evil intimately, as an earthbound animal, he felt the pain far more acutely.

Time had passed far too quickly and by the way the world was acting, they were now out of it. It was the middle of winter for the northern half of the world but Belgarath felt an overwhelming compulsion to leave, he was being pulled to Polgara, and they knew it was time for the prophecies to unveil their secrets.

Galahad was waiting with baited breath for word from either his ancient brother, or Polgara, but none was coming. For both of them to forget to contact them it meant something bad had happened, best case scenario was Polgara had been discovered and they were working together to get her moved again, the worst case scenario was unthinkable.

"One should leave, One is needed." Galahad couldn't stop himself from jumping as the familiar voice of his teacher flooded his mind.

"Where am I going, is Pol alright?" He asked, already moving about his tower collecting the few things he might need.

"The hope is safe, but a price has been paid. One's daughter is stubborn, she won't move the hope to the place he needs to be!" Galahad heard the distinct note of frustration in Poledra's voice at the complaint.

"Where is she?" He asked trying to get a straight answer from her.

"At the House in the Roses," Poledra finally answered, and Galahad knew where he had to go.

Long ago Polgara had played a prominent part in unifying the Arends, back when there were still three branches, and in payment they had created a fourth district and put it under Polgara's control. She had been gifted with the title, the Duchess of Erat, and while she had been overseeing the land, she had built herself a manor house to live in. After the fall of Vo Wacune, her favorite of the original Arendish branches, do to a civil war her father Belgarath had forbidden her from fighting in she encouraged the rose bushes planted around the house to cover it and hide it from prying eyes. It was one of the few places he had made a point to visit on his travels, but the duchy of Erat was no more, in its place was the country of Sendaria.

This was where she had retreated to, and by the sounds of it she wanted to stay, however if what Poledra had said was true Polgara couldn't stay there or the future would not work out in their favor. It looked like he needed to talk some sense into the stubborn Polgara. Poledra couldn't do it, it was not time for her to reveal herself in person, and that is what the situation required, a face-to-face confrontation. Belgarath couldn't do it because in order to tell him that Polgara needed help they would have to reveal Poledra's continued existence, because she was the one who knew Polgara couldn't stay at the house.

Galahad knew it would be too cold out to use his snake form, so he slid into the form of a slim black wolf, and started up a mile-eating stride that would carry him to Polgara faster than any horse.

His memory didn't fail him and he found the house with no hitches. The problem came when trying to navigate through the thorns when the owner was too caught up in her grief to notice him and let him threw. He was able to change into his snake form just long enough to wiggle through the gaps in the bushes, but he was chilled to the bone and sluggish from being out in the wintertime.

He announced his presence by the slightly louder than necessary whisper of Will he used to change into his human form to try to warm up.

"Who is there?" He heard her call from a room down the hall from where he had come in.

"It's Galahad, Polgara are you alright?" He both answered and inquired as he moved towards the room her voice came from.

He caught sight of her through the doorway as she answered. "I thought Mother might send you, I am as well as can be expected."

"She did send me," He admitted, "But I would have come anyway. What happened Polgara? Where is Belgarath? You had us all worried when no one sent word back to us."

"I failed that's what happened!" She yelled angrily and he didn't try to stop her just yet, she needed to work through her guilt and grief before they could discuss anything about the future. "I was supposed to protect them and I couldn't, if the Old Wolf hadn't shown up when he did even the child would have died! The one task that was mine alone and I failed!"

It took awhile for the whole story to come out with a lot of anger and pain along with it. Polgara had been hiding the family that would produce the Child of Light that not so coincidently descended from her twin Beldaran. A Grolim had found them where they were hiding and he set fire to the house, it had burned the child's parents to death while Polgara had been lead on a wild goose chase to find the grandmother to the child, who had been bewitched to wonder outside, into the snow, to her death. The boy had been saved because his father had been able to cut a hole in the wall of the house and push the child through into Belgarath's arms. Belgarath had gotten there in time to save the boy, but not the parents; it was too late for them. Belgarath had stayed just long enough to get Polgara settled again before he went off to chase the killer and that was why neither had sent any messages.

After her extended rant, Polgara felt worlds better. Galahad was able to talk to her now that she had confronted the grief. "Polgara, you know the boy will fair better if he grew up where he could play with others and learn what he will need to know. If the Prophecy is right than he will be a king some day, he will not make a good one if he grows up an anti-social hermit." Galahad pointed out.

"Villages are too dangerous; I lost him his whole family in one night because of a village." She answered tiredly.

"You were tricked, any of us would have fallen for it, I have fallen for a similar trick myself in the past. You are right though, a village wouldn't be safe enough, but this is a farming country. The isolated Farmsteads are practically villages themselves, but there are so many the Angaraks can't possibly search them all without giving themselves away, and word would spread far and wide." Galahad answered gently, knowing Polgara was going to carry guilt from this night no matter what he said, but hopefully she would work through it over time.

"You do have a point; I will go with your idea on this one. We will stay here a bit longer to prepare, but we will leave and find a farm willing to take us on. You are welcome to stay for that time if you want." She answered starting to pull herself back together after the uncharacteristic meltdown.

"I think I will take you up on the offer, but I have a question." He replied with a smile.

"What do you want to know?" She asked warily at seeing the smile.

"What is the boy's name?" He surprised her by asking.

"Garion," She answered simply.

XXXXXX

Sendarian soil was rich for farming; large commercial farms and smaller self-sufficient farmsteads dotted the whole country. The larger of these farmsteads could hold upwards of sixty people at any given time, and each had its own dining hall and blacksmith shop. A person could live their entire lives without stepping off the farm. If however you wanted something fancy, or needed spices for the kitchen, than you had to go to the nearby villages.

One of these larger farmsteads would be the best place to raise a child you wanted to hide. There where so many migrant workers and drifters the likelihood of people remembering someone as inconspicuous as a single child in a sea of faces was unlikely.

Galahad already knew glamours to advance his age, with a whisper of Will he enhanced his appearance to seem to be a few years older than his natural look. Polgara and Galahad decided to pose as siblings for the purpose of finding the right farm. He would stick around long enough to get her settled, but they would soon run into a problem. It would be hard enough to explain the lack of aging for one of them, if they both didn't age, there would be some issues.

Polgara had stopped aging at around 25, she could stay the longest, as she had a good ten years in the same place before people noticed she never aged. Galahad never aged much past the point he was pulled into this world. He could use his Will to make himself appear to be in his early twenties or so, but he would always have his somewhat youthful looks. He only had a few years in the same place before people noticed he didn't age. He was good with glamours, but not that good. He would have to update the glamour everyday to make him age the way people expected him to.

For now, they made an odd set of traveling companions. Two adults, one baby, and a goat they used for milk to feed Garion. Polgara and Galahad switched off carrying the baby as they walked. Showing the very young boy all the wonders of the world, which at his age didn't really do much, but it kept him from crying.

"Galahad, were you ever around young children before this?" Polgara asked as he held the baby against his shoulder, patting the small back with his hand after giving him his bottle.

"No, I am an only child, and an orphan. My relatives raised me, but their son was the same age as me. When I was traveling the world I was rarely in the same place long enough to be around very young children. The closest I came was in Arendia, I apprenticed to a household that had children, but they stayed in nurseries and I rarely saw them. This is the first time I have been around someone as young as him." Galahad explained.

Polgara held back her questions knowing the topic was painful, "Well you are very good with him, especially without having practice. Have you thought about having children of your own?"

"I have, but it is unlikely to happen," Galahad answered honestly. He had seen the bedchambers of his share of both males and females in his travels; he did not prefer either one to tell the truth. Yet with this prophecy hanging over him, even if he found a girl he wanted to stay with, he would not even think of having children until this quest was over. He would not have another child become an orphan if he could avoid it. "What about you Polgara, have you ever thought about children?"

"Someday I would like to have my own, but for now I am content with raising my remaining family." She answered looking at her many times great nephew.

"Polgara, just how much of the truth do you plan on telling him?" Galahad inquired.

"Not much, he will be safer if he doesn't know, and he may be happier not knowing what is ahead of him." Polgara answered.

"I don't think keeping everything from him is a good idea, trust me, when he finds out you knew something this big, and didn't tell him, he will be angry. I agree telling a child they have to kill a God, and they have to do it with the aid of a sword only a king can wield is a bit much. If you tell him a little bit at a time, little boys ask a lot of questions, he will have time to get used to one idea before moving onto another." Galahad warned.

"You may be right, but it won't be easy, he is just a child." Polgara managed to sound uncannily like Molly Weasley with that, it almost brought him to tears.

"He may be a child now, but he will grow up, and sooner than we would like. It would be for the best that he had at least a little knowledge of what he was getting into before he was dragged out on a mysterious quest." Galahad pointed out, it was the way he had wished he had been treated back on his old world.

"When he is ready I will tell him what he needs to know." Polgara agreed.

Their conversation ended there. They had been following the same strange pull that had guided Galahad through his travels. They knew they were nearing the place they would raise the Godslayer. It was just a simple farmstead, the same as any other dotting the countryside. The only thing that made it any different from the rest was the name carved deeply into the worn wooden gate, Faldor's Farm.

The pull had lead them to this place, and opening the gate, they stepped into the future of the Godslayer. Garion would learn all he needed to be a good farmer, and an even better king, from here. Galahad was the only one who felt a momentary shadow as he crossed the fence line; something bad was going to happen here. He knew when the time came to leave the place it would not be a happy exodus.

Garion and Pol settled into the farm easily. With Galahad posing as a concerned family member, and Belgarath as a vagabond storyteller, the two were never as alone as they appeared. Galahad stayed at the farm for two seasons as a human before seeming to go off to find work elsewhere, none of the farmhands really noticed the addition of a small grass snake to the creatures on the farm. Snakes were common on farms and served the same purpose as stray cats, rodent population control. They had all decided Garion was better off not knowing their true identities until they were sure he could keep the secret.

Galahad became the boy's protector, as he grew old enough to be out from under Polgara's watchful eyes for more then a few seconds, his three friends and him got into so much mischief they rivaled the marauders. Luckily, Galahad was not alone in his efforts to keep the boy safe; a few of the incidents would have forced him to break his cover if the farm Blacksmith had not been there.

Durnik was a simple man who enjoyed a life of hard work and kindness. He put up with Garion's endless questions for hours, answering when he could, and just listening when that was needed. Galahad spent some time looking into the reason for his care and found, not only a genuine fondness for the lad, but a bit of an infatuation with a certain brunette sorceress. Galahad could think of no particular reason why he should inform her of his discovery, so he kept quiet, and let Durnik help them keep Garion out of trouble.

If anyone was encouraging the boy to cause as much trouble as possible, it was actually Belgarath. The man was posing as a vagabond and he played the part well. He had a certain talent for relieving people of their possessions, and Garion was a good student. Galahad couldn't do more then shake his head at the elder man's actions. Belgarath was doing more then enticing the boy towards thievery, he was feeding the boy a steady diet of stories that told him most of what he would need to know in the future, but not ready to know they applied to him just yet.

His own time spent with the boy was sporadic at best. He could not appear too often or for too long, or he would begin to raise questions. What he did find was a likable young man who had learned his lessons from Durnik well. He was earnest and kind, and except for the small part of him surprisingly good at deception, he was an honest boy. Galahad knew Garion needed to be familiar with him, but not associate him with authority of any kind. When the truth of his part to play came to light Garion was going to need someone to talk to. That was going to be Galahad's job.

They were waiting to tell Garion the truth until he started asking questions. Galahad was firm in his belief if he was smart enough to ask the right questions, than he was ready to know the answers. It was the way he wished Dumbledore had treated him in the past.

It was in the summer of his ninth year that the important questions started. The first was about the mark on his palm.

"Aunt Pol, where did this come from? Is it a burn?" Garion asked feeling a bit silly, as he knew Pol would never have let him burn himself. He held out the hand baring the silvery mark over the palm.

"It's a birthmark, your father had it too, and it has been in our family for a long time. Keep it hidden, Garion, a family as old as ours has many enemies. They can use that mark to find us." Polgara warned seriously. Her charge was old enough to understand that much. He was not ready to know it was the mark that condemned him to a future of uncertainty.

"I will be careful," Garion answered in his serious young voice. The snake curled up in a shadowy corner of the room sighed with the sound of another child growing up too fast, but better to be prepared than remain innocent until your death.

The next question was far harder to answer, it came a few years after the first, but it was Belgarath that received the question they were all dreading. Garion had learned the old man knew his parents, and his question was not unexpected. "What happened to my parents?"

"Remember when your aunt told you that your family had enemies?" Belgarath started.

"Yes," Garion answered, eyes wide, as he realized what that probably meant.

"Your parents were found by one of those enemies, and there was a fire. There was nothing either your aunt or I could do, by the time we got there your parents were already gone, after that your Aunt was able to take care of you while I chased the man who set the fire. Your Uncle came to help your Aunt not too much later." Belgarath explained.

"Who was he?" Garion demanded through his tears.

"His name was Chamdar, a Grolim, one of the priests of Torak, and a truly vile man. Your Uncle and I have been searching for him, but we haven't caught him yet." Belgarath answered as gently as he could to the saddened and angered boy.

"I'm glad you didn't, when I am older and stronger, I will kill him myself." The boy growled like a wounded animal.

"Killing is no simple task lad, you had best figure out if that is what you really want." Belgarath warned knowing that was the only thing he could do at the time, Garion was too hurt to understand he couldn't go after his parents' murderer.

Garion was left to cry himself out, facing the grief of lost parents; the ever present serpent would have been joining the boy if it were possible for a snake to cry. It was the first, and only, time Galahad regretted his choice of forms.

Not long after this conversation happened, Galahad began noticing something unusual. Garion would occasionally look over into the surrounding fields, and instead of just the usual empty glances of a bored youth, it was as if the boy was actually seeing something just below the horizon. This caused Galahad's instincts to go haywire whenever it happened. Something was definitely out there, and it was something only Garion could see. The incidents involving Thestrals in the past unintentionally coming to the forefront of his mind. Not even hundreds of years could wipe away the memories he wished he could forget.

Shaking his serpentine head he figured it was time he paid the farm another visit as a human. Maybe he could get Garion to tell him what he saw out on the fields. If he asked just right and kept his reactions in check, he shouldn't freak out, or scare the boy too much.

Retreating out of sight outside the farm gate, he carefully returned to human form, stretching out the process to minimize the sound. He had gotten very good at hiding the sound during his travels in Cthol Murgos. Advancing his glamour to appear to be in his twenties he opened the gate and entered the farmstead, heading with confident steps to the kitchen.

"Galahad, is something wrong?" Polgara asked immediately after he stepped into the kitchen.

"Why do you believe there might be a problem when I turn up?" He answered keeping his voice soft and his words oddly phrased. He had found after some experimenting that if he kept his voice low, and avoided words with too many S's, he could downplay the hiss in his voice so he didn't draw too much attention.

"Because you only come when something is wrong," Polgara pointed out; glancing around to make sure they were alone in the kitchen for the moment.

"At the moment, nothing, but that could change after I talk with Garion." Galahad replied with a serious expression.

Polgara's face was grave as she asked, "What is wrong with Garion?"

"I don't know, I need to talk to him before I can tell you anything definite. I do not believe it is anything immediately threatening, I will warn you if I am wrong." Galahad promised.

Their conversation ended there as the kitchen helpers arrived to start the preparations for the evening meal. It had been a rare event to have an empty kitchen, and Galahad once again felt that there was some force guiding their steps.

The helpers took in the presence of the dark haired man without comment. He was familiar enough around the farm not to raise a fuss. Everyone knew he was Pol's brother checking in on his sister and nephew. Polgara and Galahad had enough resemblance to pass as siblings without awkward questions, and Garion's fairer complexion was attributed to the boy's unrelated parent. They also understood the man did not like to speak a great deal, most assumed he had some speech impediment, or was just a quiet type.

"I will look for Garion now," Galahad told Polgara softly, his rarely heard voice catching the attention of a few helpers, but they soon returned to their work. He was glad he put in the effort to smooth out the hiss, he kind of liked the sound himself, but knew it was unsettling to others.

"He is usually around the barn, or the smithy, at this time of the day." Polgara informed him almost absently as she set about telling her helpers what to do.

Galahad left her at it and went in search of the boy. He found him hovering a safe distance from the forge as he watched Durnik work. At the boy's cry of, "Uncle Galahad!" the smith paused in his work for a moment, but at Galahad's gesture to keep going he did just that, it was not good for the metal to be heated and cooled too many times.

Garion carefully avoided the hot forge and glowing metal as he raced around Durnik to get to Galahad. He was still young enough he wasn't embarrassed to hug his Uncle as an older boy might. "You've grown," Galahad observed in his soft voice.

"It has been a few years," Garion informed him dutifully, and Galahad couldn't help but smile at the boy's attitude.

"Anything good happen while I have been gone?" He asked lightly.

"Not much has changed, but... um... Promise you won't tell Aunt Pol?" Garion was suddenly a bundle of nervous energy.

"I won't tell your Aunt, but only if you are not in danger," Galahad promised, with a condition.

"I don't think so, I mean nothing has happened yet, but I think someone might be following me," Garion admitted, and for a moment Galahad relaxed, thinking Garion may have just picked up on his presence and he would finally get one more secret off his chest.

"Why do you think you are being followed?" He asked carefully, it may not have anything to do with him, and he wouldn't blow his cover if he didn't have to. Garion was safer not knowing he was there. Children his age would occasionally rebel against the constant guarding, and if the boy was as clever as Galahad suspected, he could give them the slip and truly be on his own for the first time, completely undefended.

"I feel eyes on my back a lot, like I am being watched by someone, and there are times I think I see someone wearing a black cloak sitting on a black horse across the fields. My eyes might be playing tricks on me with that, because no one else has seen him." Garion admitted, and Galahad was anything but reassured.

"Can you tell me more about the rider?" Galahad asked as he carefully ghosted across Garion's mind to see the picture the boy was bringing to the front to describe. Galahad was surprised when he recognized the face. He pulled back gently as Garion began to speak.

"He is usually too far away for me to see clearly, but I believe it is a he, and for some reason I think I have seen him before." Garion described vaguely.

"You may have noticed him before, but the man, did he ever do anything but watch?" Galahad asked gently so he didn't scare Garion.

"He never did or said anything, just sat on that horse and watched." Garion confirmed, easing some of Galahad's worry but not enough. If that rider really was whom he thought it was, what was he waiting for, and why was he just watching?

Galahad carefully told him, "Garion, if you notice him again, tell your Aunt about it. He might not be a friend."

"I promise," Garion agreed knowing his Uncle was being very serious.

"Good, now what trouble do you think we can get into before dinner?" Galahad easily distracted the young boy with thoughts of mischief, and Garion dragged him to a quiet corner of the farm to plot an adventure with his surrogate nephew.


	5. Escape From Faldor's Farm

**The One With The Serpent Tongue**

**Shadow of an Echo  
**

**Chapter Five**

**Escape From Faldor's Farm**

Galahad stayed human to join the farmhands for supper that evening wanting to keep a watchful eye on Polgara and Garion for just a little bit longer. The figure Garion was seeing was quite troubling, he had seen that face before and the man was no friend, what Galahad couldn't figure out was why he hadn't hurt Garion yet when it sounded like he had plenty of opportunity. He was definitely missing something, and Galahad did not like that one bit.

"Alright, what happened? It has been a long time since you were so distracted and worried." Polgara confronted him about it as soon as the meal was cleared away, and there were no eavesdropping ears about.

"Garion is seeing his parents' murderer standing in the fields. He doesn't know whom he is seeing, and I don't think he is completely here because only Garion could see him. He doesn't want you to know about it, but I told him I would only tell him is if put him in danger, and I think that counts as danger." Galahad answered not bothering to cover the hiss when it was just them talking; they would know if someone came too close to them during their conversation.

"Why doesn't he want me to know? I don't want him to be afraid to tell me things, what did I do wrong?" Pol asked showing her insecure side a little more; she was still beating herself up over her failure to protect Garion's family.

"He is just a boy, not as young as he used to be, but still a boy. He probably doesn't want to worry you, and he wants to figure it out himself, that is the nature of boys his age. I did the same thing when I was as young as him." Galahad reassured her.

"You weren't hiding something that could end up killing you!" Polgara snapped and Galahad's eyes narrowed.

"Just how old is Garion right now?" He asked bluntly.

"He turned fourteen last winter, as you should know; you were there on his birthday." Polgara answered waspishly wondering why Galahad was asking.

"When I was fourteen, I had killed a man, been bitten by a Basilisk, helped an innocent convict escape a fate worse than death, and fought in a deadly tournament that was supposed to be for seventeen and up, all while surviving being put under all three Unforgivable curses by the person who murdered my family." Galahad admitted, before he realized Polgara would only understand about half of that.

"You killed a man at fourteen!" She exclaimed shocked, she understood that part.

"No, I killed a man at eleven, but I didn't mean to do it. My mother sacrificed herself for me, and it left me protected against people wishing me harm, the man was trying to kill me but when he touched my skin he was literally burned alive." Galahad winced at the memory hating how everything was being brought up again, but this time it was his fault.

"What is a Basilisk? How old were you for that one?" Polgara asked with that morbid fascination people got when they desperately wanted to know something but knew they wouldn't like the answer.

"A Basilisk is a sixty foot long, highly venomous, snake." Galahad mumbled lowly, "I am lucky to be alive after that one. I was twelve. The convict was the man accused of killing my parents, but was in fact innocent; I was thirteen for that. The Tournament was supposed to show off the power of the older students, I was put into it as a cover for the person trying to kill me; I was three years younger than the other competitors were. The Unforgivables are curses that are so wrong they were considered to be the darkest curses ever to exist, I was one when I survive the killing curse, fourteen when I felt the pain and controlling curses, they are horrible things to be under." Galahad answered all the questions he thought she would ask.

Polgara just stared at Galahad in shock, over the centuries all of the brotherhood had found out he was from another world, Polgara was actually the first to know because of her connection to Poledra. None of them knew what he had gone through on his home world. Hearing what happened to Galahad made Polgara want to hide Garion from the world just so he wouldn't have to face the same thing.

"Pol, Garion is older than I was when my troubles started, I look like I am 16 because that is how old I was when I was brought to this world, only two years older than Garion, but I saw so much more than he has. He is an intelligent lad and will make the best of what is coming, and we will help him every step of the way, unlike what I had to go through." Galahad assured her, "Also he is very good at finding out the information he needs to know, where I was kept in the dark." Galahad added on dryly, turning to look over his shoulder.

"You can come out now Garion," He called; his voice louder than even Garion had heard him use.

A very sheepish looking sandy blonde haired boy stepped out of the shadows. "I didn't mean to listen Uncle Galahad, but I heard my name, and you were talking so fast." He hurriedly explained.

"You are not in trouble now, we will have to teach you how not to get caught in the future," Galahad told the boy, earning himself a smack to the back of his head from Pol. "What was that for? It is a useful skill to have, and he isn't bad at it. All talents should be encouraged."

"That Old Wolf is teaching him enough bad habits, the boy doesn't need anymore help from you." Polgara scolded.

"What is wrong with your voice Uncle?" Garion asked, and Galahad cursed beneath his breath.

"Nothing to worry about, I have had that for a very long time." Galahad dodged, Garion was not old enough for the Will and the Word just yet, it was better to wait to tell him that part of it. Though rumor has it, Belgarath had been telling the boy certain stories about the brotherhood, preparing him for the truth.

"Now why were you looking for us?" Polgara asked Garion, knowing the boy wasn't one to follow people without a purpose.

"Mister Wolf is here, he wants to see you, he says it's important." Garion told her.

"I will go see what he wants. Can you stay with Garion?" Polgara asked Galahad.

"Yeah I will watch him." Galahad agreed, both of them ignoring the huff of indignation from the boy.

When Pol left Galahad looked at Garion calculatingly. "How much did you hear?"

"I heard you tell Aunt Pol I am older than you were, I don't know what you two meant by troubles, but that is what I heard." Garion mumbled kicking at the floor with the toe of his boot.

Galahad didn't speak for a moment; that meant Garion had heard him tell Polgara how old he technically was. Garion was smart enough to start guessing the truth if left to his own devices. "What did you get out of what you heard?" Galahad might as well turn the situation into an unintentional lesson.

Garion didn't say anything, gathering his thoughts before speaking proving his intelligence. "I think something big is going to happen involving me, I don't think everything I have seen is the truth, but you are keeping things from me to protect me, not to harm me." He analyzed.

"Very good, I knew you had a brain. I know everything will happen very quickly, we will tell you what you need to know, when you need to know it. We have already told you part of the truth; there are some things we have said that aren't quite true, but we have never told a lie that didn't have a very good reason behind it." Galahad explained, not being able to say they hadn't lied to him, after all he did call them Aunt and Uncle, the relationship was far more complicated than that.

"If I ask the right questions will I be told the truth?" Garion asked sharply.

"Only if it won't put you in more danger, but you will not be lied to if we cannot tell you." Galahad promised.

"When will you tell me about your voice?" Garion asked, correctly guessing he wasn't being told the whole truth.

"I will tell you when you need to know. Right now you are better off not knowing." Galahad warned.

"Does it have anything to do with what you said to Aunt Pol?" He correctly guessed, once again showing his sharp mind for what it was.

"They are connected; both are an element of the truth." Galahad replied.

"I have a feeling, once I find out the truth, I will not want the answers," Garion foresaw shaking his head at the thought.

"I believe you will come to rue the day you learn the truth about everything." Galahad agreed.

"Galahad, bring Garion back to the kitchen, we are leaving tonight!" Polgara's voice rang through Galahad's head, momentarily startling him, it had been a long time since he was spoken to like that.

"Come with me, we are leaving tonight." Galahad ordered

"Why?" Garion asked completely shocked at this turn of events.

"You know that day we talked about? I think it will happen quickly." Galahad warned as he led the boy to the kitchens where Polgara and Belgarath were waiting.

"Pol, get the boy ready to leave, Galahad come with me, there is something we need to do." Belgarath took charge and the other men moved to follow his orders without question.

"What is it?" Galahad asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

"One of the farmhands, he isn't what we think he is. I have run into him before. He is trying to outrun us, I don't know who he is working for exactly, but it is not good." Belgarath explained as they headed towards the stables.

The first thing Galahad noticed was a very sour smell, like stale sweat, nothing like the slightly sweet scent of horses. The next was the light of a single candle shining from a back corner. The distressed whinnying of a horse brought him around the corner and face to face with a small man trying to saddle a horse that was shying away from his vile scent. Galahad couldn't blame the animal for wanting to escape.

The man looked up as Galahad came into the pool of light and he pulled out an oddly shaped piece of metal and threw it at him, Galahad ducked out of the way and drew one of his own daggers, tossing it at the other man. The blade barely grazed the stranger's shoulder and Galahad knew he was faced with another trained as he was, an assassin.

Just as Galahad drew another dagger practically hissing with anger, and Belgarath tried to slip around the farmhand's back, someone lunged out of the shadows and hit the man over the head with a stout beam, the assassin dropped like a stone.

"What is going on here?" Durnik asked pointedly as he held the beam like a weapon.

"That man was dangerous, and he attacked first. Give our regrets to Faldor, but Pol and Garion are leaving with us tonight." Belgarath took charge of the situation as Galahad picked up his daggers, not wanting to use his Will with Durnik right there.

Durnik refused, "Someone else will have to do that, I do not want Mistress Pol out on those streets with nothing but an old man, and a man unable to speak, for protection. There are plenty of stories of robbers and murderers in the less populated regions."

"Belgarath we don't have time to fight him, he will have to come along." Galahad whispered.

"Alright, but if you get killed it's your fault, and Galahad here can speak, you will find out why he doesn't some other time," Belgarath warned, not protesting Galahad's decision.

"What do we do with him?" Durnik asked kicking the unconscious man's foot.

"Tie him up and toss him in the grain bin, he will be found in the morning, hopefully when we are long gone." Belgarath decided. "Meet us at the gate in twenty minutes."

"I will be there." Durnik agreed watching the two men leave.

XXXXXX

"What were you thinking? It is bad enough we have to put Garion in danger, but Durnik too? You are mad old man!" Polgara registered her displeasure as she packed up their possessions.

"You know as well as I do that Durnik has a part to play in all of this. He has to come with us at some point; he might as well be in on it from the beginning." Belgarath argued.

Garion looked up at Galahad, "This is one of those things you are not going to tell me now, right?"

"We do not have the time tonight; you will know when we have more time." Galahad promised.

"Finally something I am allowed to know!" Garion exclaimed with relief.

"Remember what I told you, are you ready to know?" Galahad pointed out.

Garion looked him straight in the eye, and stood tall, as he answered. "Yes, I want to know the truth I can handle it."

"Good, when we are on our way I will tell you what you want to know. Be ready." Galahad assured him.

"Thank you Uncle Galahad." Garion said sincerely.

"Don't thank me until you know the truth." Galahad warned.

Before Garion could reply Belgarath interrupted, "We need to leave now if we want to meet Durnik at the gate,"

"What have you told Faldor?" Galahad asked curiously.

"We left him a note saying we needed to leave for family reasons and thanked him for his hospitality." Polgara told him as they left the living quarters heading for the front gate.

Sneaking off the farm in the dead of night, with a man locked in a grain bin and under a mysterious threat reminded Galahad of the first time he crossed the gate, all those years ago, and the feeling of foreboding. He didn't like the fact his paranoia had proved true, it did not bode well for the rest of the quest.

They walked into the night for a few hours, the hilly country of Sendaria draining their strength as they walked. The elder members of the party were better suited for the walk, but, if the frequent tripping and stumbling was any measure, Garion was getting tired and quickly. Galahad had long ago taken the boy's small bag from him so Garion was only carrying his own weight but he was still barely awake.

By the time Belgarath found the right path, Garion was nearly crying with exhaustion, and Galahad was contemplating blowing his cover by changing into a horse to help him along. Just before he decided to do something drastic, Belgarath cut off the road and across a field to get to an old woodcutters track. By the time they were passed the tree line Galahad was right next to Garion, urging him forward, he knew they would be stopping soon. Belgarath would not have taken them off the road unless there was another means of transport, walking cross-country was not fast enough.

When two men became visible through the trees, the sight frightened Garion, the boy was so tired that he panicked and ran, causing Galahad and the smaller of the two new comers to track him down. When no one else panicked, Galahad assumed these were friends of Belgarath.

By the time they caught Garion, and headed back to the others, Galahad had gotten a good look at the other man. The man was a Drasnian, judging by his clothes and small lean form, he had wild black hair, almost as unrulely as Galahad's own, and he was roughly the same height as Galahad. When they reached the others, a fire was burning, and in the light Galahad noticed the other was probably in his early twenties or thereabouts.

When Galahad got a good look at the small man's traveling companion he understood why Garion was so afraid, the other man was a Cherek, which most of the males were large and burly, but this one was rivaling Hagrid in size. He had a large mane of red hair, and a broadsword that probably weighed as much as Galahad strapped to his hip, a chain mail shirt just added to the imposing figure.

The two strangers introduced themselves, Silk was the smaller one, and Barak was the larger. Galahad knew Silk was not his real name, because he knew all the higher-ranking members of the Drasnian spy network had code names, and Silk was one of them. He wondered just how high ranking this one was, because if there was one thing he knew about the code names, you earned them. To have a name like Silk, especially at a relatively young age, was a testament to just how good this man was at his craft.

When Belgarath introduced his group to Silk and Barak, he did it in a way that conveyed their cover story so they didn't slip around Garion, even though Galahad planned to tell Garion at least part of the truth. He learned they planned to travel by wagons, and as such, Barak and Silk had acquired three wagons of turnips to convey them across Sendaria. It was a good cover story, but it was a slow method, bad for their quest, but good for Garion so he could learn more as they rode.

After a hot meal they hitched up the wagons and Galahad was soon helping Garion into the wagon they were going to be traveling in, Silk climbed in beside them. Galahad didn't mind the other man's presence, trusting Belgarath to have told him about the quest already.

"Alright Garion, you can ask your questions now," Galahad invited, dropping the cover on his voice, he didn't plan to cover it up unless they were in a city, so Garion might as well get used to it now.

"Why did Durnik have to come with us? I mean I don't mind that he did, but Mister Wolf made it sound like he didn't have a choice." Garion asked first.

"In a way he didn't, this little adventure has been planned out for a very long time, the timing was flexible, but it was bound to happen at some point. Durnik has a very important part to play in this, he may not have had to come at this time, but he would have joined us eventually. We all have a task to finish, and there will be others coming after this." Galahad explained the best he could without mentioning the prophecies or any gods, people had a way of hearing names if they really wished to hear it.

"I have a part in this too?" Garion inquired curiously.

"Yes, but I can't tell you what it is yet, a few things have to happen first before I can tell you, just like on the farm to get a good harvest everything has to be done at the proper time." Galahad used an analogy he thought Garion would understand a bit easier.

"Alright I can understand that, what I don't understand is how you know what order things are supposed to happen in?" Garion wondered.

"We have been given the plan for this journey a long time ago. I can't get any more specific then that without putting us in danger." Galahad admitted.

"Will I ever get to see this plan?" Garion was getting frustrated now, and Galahad completely understood why.

"You will get to see it, as it does concern you in a very large way, but trust me when I say we are not withholding information from you just for the sake of keeping secrets. I can only answer your questions in general until it is safe for us to go more in depth, which is the best I can do without putting us all in danger." Galahad assured him.

"I understand," He answered glumly.

"Why don't you try and get some sleep? It will be a long ride to Darine." Galahad proposed.

"Oh, alright," Garion acquiesced as he fumbled around in the turnip sacks making himself a makeshift bed in the back of the wagon.

It didn't take ten minutes for him to be deeply asleep.

"That was very well handled." Galahad was a bit startled by Silk's voice coming out of the blue.

"It could have been worse." He agreed.

"I know enough about what is going on to know he will be important; I don't know how everything fits together yet." Silk admitted, sounding almost hopeful that Galahad might fill him in.

"I can't tell you much more about this quest than I told Garion, it isn't safe. I can answer anything else you want to ask though." Galahad warned before Silk could get his hopes up.

"You are one of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers right?" Silk asked curiously. He was a spy after all, and here was someone everybody knew the name of but no one had ever really known, he was almost obligated to find out what he could about him.

"Yes I am," Galahad answered cautiously, not knowing where this was going.

"Where do you fit in with them? The others are known enough to have their ages and looks well recognized." Silk inquired smoothly.

"I am the youngest at the moment, and this is not exactly how I look, I age myself when traveling but I will slowly back off on that so I show my real appearance." Galahad half teased by only partially answering his questions.

"I know that when dealing with sorcerers the term 'young' never really applies, and how far have you aged yourself?" Silk seemed determined to find out his age.

"I look about 16 or maybe a little older, but I turned 516 this past summer." Galahad finally confessed.

"Like I said the term young doesn't apply, but I had a worse shock when I learned how old Belgarath was." Silk admitted.

"Yeah, seven thousand years is a rather long time." Galahad agreed.

"If you don't mind me asking, why do you hiss?" Silk finally dropped the subject of ageing.

"Do you know how Belgarath got the nickname Old Wolf?" Galahad replied with a question.

"Because it is his favored form," Silk answered.

"My favored form is a snake, I can speak their language even as a human, and since I spent a bit too long as a snake in my youth the hiss never really goes away like it would if I didn't already speak snake." Galahad explained.

"I never really cared for snakes, I had a mission in Nyssa when I was young and got myself bitten by three different venomous breeds. I spent the whole trip under the influence of venoms and anti-venoms." Silk admitted.

"I can understand the dislike from that stand point, but snakes are usually fairly noble creatures that prefer being left alone. They are useful forms to travel in because they are fast, and require very little maintenance, unlike some other animals. They don't work so well in the winter, so I use a wolf form when it's too cold for snakes." Galahad informed him.

"Just how much time did you spend as a snake?" Silk asked.

"The longest stretch was about ten years, but altogether a very long time, at least a quarter of my life." Galahad replied.

"That is a very long time to spend not being human," Silk commented.

"I didn't mind it, I like being around people, but I prefer to stay in the background. As a snake I could be with any family, at any time, and never really be noticed. It was how I helped keep an eye on Garion." Galahad answered, gesturing to the still sleeping Garion.

"You did some traveling before you became a full time babysitter right?" He asked and, waiting until he received Galahad's nod, continued, "Did you ever come to Drasnia?"

"I spent quite a bit of time there actually, I liked the place, they taught me well…" Their conversation continued with Silk asking about his adventures, and Galahad answering while Garion slept on in the back.

As the sun rose, a thought came into Galahad's mind, "I wonder if Brill made it out of the grain bin yet?"


	6. Sendaria

**The One With The Serpent Tongue**

**Shadow of an Echo  
**

**Chapter Six**

**Sendaria**

The trip to Darine lasted four days, the weather steadily worsening as the days wore on, seemingly pulling the wagons backwards with every step along the route. They passed many Villages and farmsteads, most without any notice; they truly were just another face in the crowd as they trudged along the muddy roads.

Garion, Silk, and Galahad continued to share a wagon together, and both older men would keep the boy entertained with stories of their exploits, Galahad carefully concealing the exact time span of his adventures. It soon came out that both older men knew the Drasnian hand language, and Garion was very interested in the complicated form of communication. Silk agreed to teach the language to the boy, neither wanting to say the reason for it was that Galahad still used a slightly archaic form of the language, which would be noticed in a boy of Garion's age. Galahad could get away with it because anyone who knew this language would already know about him, it was better to keep Garion in the shadows for now.

Once they were in the city itself, Belgarath set off to try to find the trail of the orb, and the newly formed trio went out to get rid of the turnips they no longer needed. Silk might have been a thief and a spy, but he was also a sound businessman, with many personas used to get the best deal out of the people he was bargaining with. Both Garion and Galahad learned more in half an hour with Silk, than Galahad learned in his entire life. Truthfully, business had never really interested him, but watching Silk do it turned the simple skill of bargaining into an art form.

Leaving Darine, after discovering no trace of the Orb, was quicker than arriving due to the now empty wagons. They were headed south to the cattle town of Muros, a caravan road went south, and the thief who took the Orb might try their own trick and blend in with one of the merchant caravans that traveled the road. The only problem was it was a long and boring trek over muddy roads. Teaching Garion the language was the only thing to occupy the trios' mind during those few weeks of riding.

The only truly remarkable thing that happened on the trip was the discovery that a very fragrant fellow was following them, a fellow by the name of Brill. Spotting him in a village they had stayed in for the night made them rethink their plans, and hurry along much sooner the next morning than they had planned, hoping to give the overly persistent tracker the slip.

When they finally reached Muros it was with relief at reaching a city with better accommodations, and a chance of getting somewhere with the quest. This time just Garion and Galahad struck off into the city for a bit of a walk and a look around. Galahad figured the more of the world Garion saw now, the better equipped he would be in the future. Garion's task would involve him leading and commanding a large number of people from different places and lifestyles, he needed to understand what he was dealing with in order to earn their respect and loyalty.

It was with great surprise that they caught wind of Brill once again, just how was this man getting ahead of them so easily? He must have been killing his horses to catch up with them; a horse will run until it drops if forced to. A small skirmish, and a trip to the Algars later, had them on the road to Camaar soon after the sighting, as once more no trace of the Orb was found. Belgarath was already beating himself up over the wasted time the trip had taken.

Their new disguise was relatively easy to gain, as Polgara simply dusted off her old title of Duchess and traveled under the pretense of nobility. The security they gave up was made up in time saved. This was the last city the thief could have ran with the Orb, as it was the last one with any access to other countries, this time by boat as it was a sea port.

Finally, they found the trail of the Orb in Camaar, but before they could follow it they were summarily escorted to the Sendarian palace, King Fulrich wanted a word with them. Galahad knew they couldn't hide their identities from Garion any more, and during the ride to the palace, he told the boy the truth.

"Garion, do you remember the stories Old Wolf used to tell you about Sorcery and the Brotherhood?" Galahad asked lowly.

"Yes," The boy answered slightly panicked about the arrest.

"Those stories answer your questions." Galahad admitted. "Those were not just for entertainment, you wanted the truth and its time you learned it. My full name is Belgalahad, your Aunt Pol is the Sorceress Polgara, Old Wolf is Belgarath the Sorcerer. I am telling you this now because King Fulrich is not arresting us for any wrongdoing, but he is concerned about the quest and wants answers. In truth he is very kind and is just trying to protect his people."

"I don't believe it," Garion whispered as his eyes nearly fell from their sockets. His mind was struggling to understand what the man he believed to be his uncle told him the truth. "What does this mean? Aunt Pol isn't related to me, or you?" Garion did not want to loose the last link to his parents.

"I am not related by blood, but blood means little to me, you are my nephew no matter if we are related or not," Galahad answered honestly before continuing. "Polgara and Belgarath are related to you, though the relationship is a bit more complex than you were led to believe, but they couldn't love you any more." Galahad reassured him.

"You are really telling me the truth aren't you?" Garion asked pulling himself together, he was far tougher then he appeared, but Galahad knew much more information and he would collapse.

"Yes, due to their ages in the stories, which are all true by the way, you know they are not your direct relatives. Belgarath is the father of both Polgara, and Polgara's twin Beldaran, you can think of Beldaran as your ultimate grandmother, as you descend from her. Polgara is your Aunt and Belgarath is your grandfather, it is just many times removed." Galahad decided to tell him everything at one time, if the boy collapsed he would learn to deal with the information and come back much quicker than if he found out little by little and had his world crumble before his eyes.

Garion's eyes were shinning with tears he was valiantly trying to stop from flowing. "Why?" He whispered, "Why wasn't I told this before? Am I just being used because of this quest?"

"It wasn't important before, so what if we are not as closely related as you thought? We still cared enough to keep you safe and happy for as long as we could. I wanted you to find out directly from one of us rather than when we are introduced to the king. You are important to this quest yes, but that is not our only reason for taking care of you." Galahad reassured again.

"If they are my family, even distantly, why do you care if you are not?" Garion was settling into a soft anger at the withheld information, something Galahad completely empathized with.

"You are not the first to have your parents ripped away from you too soon, and definitely not the first to be thrust on a path you didn't chose, something chosen before you were born. I have been there Garion, and I will do my best to keep you from feeling the pain I once did. I was taught, and practically raised, by someone very close to your family. I have been a part of your destiny since it was written, and a part of your life since your birth, why wouldn't I care?" Galahad pointed out.

"The stories say how old Aunt Pol and Mister Wolf are, but not you, please tell me about you?" Garion asked, and Galahad was sure it was just a subject to keep himself from thinking too much on what he had just learned.

Galahad didn't object to the boy's need for a break and gently began to explain his true age and status in this world. He wasn't quite ready to tell Garion the whole truth, but that was something barely anyone knew about, and that made the guilt of his silence on the subject much more bearable.

The miles to the palace passed quickly as Galahad helped Garion deal with his new knowledge, and by the time they reached the home of the Sendarian King, Galahad was proud of how well Garion was dealing with the shock, and even a bit happy that despite everything Garion continued to call him Uncle.

The palace of Sendaria was a simple well-constructed building that projected the same image as the people of the country. Galahad had only stepped foot in this palace a single time in his history, and he had not stayed for long. He doubted the current king would know him so he stuck to the back of the group led by soldiers, he placed a discrete hand on his nephew's shoulder to give the boy a little bit of reassurance. Polgara and Belgarath had taken up places at the head of the group having the best idea of what was actually happening.

"Are you sure everything will be okay?" Garion whispered, a bit of nervousness creeping into his voice.

"Nothing is as it seems, but I don't believe Fulrich means us any harm," Galahad whispered back, the hiss in his voice never as prominent to Garion's ears as it was in that moment. Garion really was leaving the safety of childhood ignorance behind in the endless search for answers.

"Are you going to hide your voice here?" Garion asked in a bid for a change in topic.

"No, in the world of royalty it is best they know the other side of me. Plus it takes too much time to cover it; I only do it when I have to." Galahad answered the nervous boy as they passed into the courtyard of the palace and dismounted.

When they reached the entrance to the palace all of the travelers were taken to separate rooms to prepare them for their meeting with the king. Galahad would have once been paralyzed by shyness at the attentions of the servants assigned to his preparations, but several centuries of life had taken the edge off his nerves, and his bath and dressing passed smoothly. He ended up in a green doublet and hose, common in that time and place, but he much preferred his own far more comfortable and functional clothing. He also felt undressed without a single weapon on him save his Will.

When he was led back into the hall he found Garion, dressed in blue, and Silk, dressed in black, as he made his way toward them Durnik came bursting out of the room next to his. The simple blacksmith looked uncomfortable and angry in his finery, he was muttering something about staying with the horses if he could have his own clothes back, Galahad just thought he would let well enough alone and left the irritated man to himself. Instead, he went over to where Garion and Silk were standing.

"Are you doing alright?" He asked his honorary nephew, worried for the boy being on his own in the strange palace.

"I don't understand anything anymore, but I think I will be alright." Garion replied, his voice steadier than it had been, but the boy was still pale.

"Just remember that we haven't done anything wrong, and the king just wishes to speak with us, you have nothing to fear. There may be a few more shocks in store for you, but stick close to me and I will help you through them." Galahad tried to reassure Garion but he wasn't sure if it worked.

After his short conversation with Garion, the others started appearing, Polgara taking the longest to get ready. Whatever strength Garion managed to find had the boy on his feet and moving, but his nervousness showed in the way he nearly plastered himself to Galahad's side, not that the older man minded. The two of them were the last to enter the hall of the king, with Silk not far ahead of them.

Galahad watched Garion closely during the formal introductions of the group, because even he didn't know the exact titles of Silk and Barak. It wasn't everyday you found you were traveling with the nephew and the cousin of a king respectfully, a prince and an earl just wasn't what Galahad was expecting when they met. When his own name was called the whispers for him were almost louder than those for Belgarath and Polgara, he was the Brother most knew about, but few had seen. When Garion was called he held it together enough to reply to the king's gentle questions, but he nearly collapsed back onto Galahad once the king moved to the next person.

Belgarath and Polgara went with the king to a guarded room for their discussion, leaving the others to occupy themselves, the trio found themselves shoved together once more. "So Prince Keldar, I knew you were good, but I have to admit I wasn't expecting that one." Galahad teased hoping to both get the other to talk, and help the still comatose Garion get his bearings.

Silk winced at the address, "Please I am only his nephew and not likely to inherit, I haven't used that title since I earned my name at the academy."

"What academy?" Garion asked curiously, Galahad's plan was working.

"In Drasnia the national academy trains spies; I am one of their graduates. Those of us good enough to earn a name usually use that more than our real one, to both earn prestige, and have a bit of privacy if we feel like using our birth names." Silk explained having caught onto Galahad's intentions with the boy.

"How do you earn your names?" Garion asked.

"For some it is their personality, others it is skill. Whatever makes you a good spy is what you are named for." Silk explained, giving Galahad an interesting look that bore thinking on at a better time.

"Uncle Galahad, where does the Bel in your name come from? Mister Wolf's name has it too." Garion asked curiously, apparently it had just hit the boy the name was different. Silk talking about names probably reminded the boy.

"It is short for beloved; Pol means the same thing but is a feminine term. It was given to us, almost like how Silk earned his; we were chosen to receive the prefix." Galahad answered easily.

"Who chose who gets it?" The boy was just as curious as Galahad had hoped, the more questions he asked the better.

"You will probably meet him on this trip, so I don't want to spoil the surprise." Galahad replied with a teasing grin.

The three missing people reentering the room interrupted their teasing conversation. "I am sorry Belgarath but it is the only way." Fulrich pleaded, his tone conveying he meant what he said, and it wasn't just pleasantries.

"Alright, but this better not take long," Belgarath growled out as Polgara laid a calming hand on her father's shoulder.

"What is going on?" Galahad was brave enough to ask.

Belgarath was too angry to answer, so Polgara filled him in, "We have to go to Cherek now, the Western kings want to know what is going on with our quest. They will block our way until they get answers, so we might as well play along."

"So we don't have a choice do we?" Galahad asked wryly.

"Not really." She admitted.

Galahad was quietly amused at the antics of Queen Layla on the docks of Sendar; the small plump queen was terrified of sea travel, enough that just looking at the water could throw her into a panic. She was not coming with them on the trip to Cherek, but Fulrich was, and she was fussing over him continuously as they readied the boat for launch. Everyone else who was going with them had already readied themselves to board the boat.

"Uncle Galahad, have you ever been to Cherek?" Garion asked curiously from his now habitual spot at Galahad's side.

"Yes, a long time ago. They are good people, a little close-minded at times, but good nonetheless. What exactly do you want to know about them? I am sure Barak could answer your questions better than I could." Galahad answered.

"I have never been outside of Faldor's farm for longer than a few days, and that was only to the local village, you know that from watching me for so long. I know next to nothing about the places we will be going to and the people we will meet, I feel like an idiot just standing in the shadows all the time. I want to learn more about where we are going if I can. Will you help me with that Uncle?" Garion explained himself well for a still relatively young man and Galahad nodded in approval.

"I understand, and as far as Cherek goes the main thing you have to know about them is they are probably the least tolerant of the Alorn nations. There is a price on the head of any Murgo that steps on Cherek soil. They are mistrustful of anyone who even resembles an Angarak, which I do actually; you might see them treat me a little more harshly than the others." Galahad did his best to sum up what he knew in a simple cohesive thought to inform Garion. Too much information at one time would do the exact opposite and just confuse him. It was best he was allowed to learn some things from simple observation, he would need that skill when he got older.

"Which kind of Angarak do you look like, and just how harshly will they be treating you?" Garion's concern for him was touching, but his questions were valid.

"You have never seen one as far as I know, but I look like a Nadrak, I spent a lot of time in Gar og Nadrak before you were born so I even act a little like them on occasions. I tend to hide that side of myself in Cherek out of self-preservation." Galahad admitted.

"Just how old are you?" Garion asked in exasperation. He knew his Uncle was older than he appeared, but the last time they had discussed it they were on their way to meet Fulrich, and Garion had not been in any shape to retain information.

Galahad just chuckled before answering, "Older than you, are you sure you really want to know?"

"Yes, I think I do, Uncle, None of this will ever be real to me unless I hear it out loud. Please tell me the truth?" Garion asked seriously, and Galahad remembered another young boy standing in his Headmaster's office begging to be told the truth.

"I am over 500 years old. In the middle of summer, I will be 517. I am the youngest in the brotherhood of Sorcerers, I know Belgarath has been telling you stories about them for years. We talked about this before we got to the palace, don't you remember?" Galahad asked just to see how much Garion would admit to.

"I remember some things, but I was too far out of it to take in much at all, I'm sorry." Garion admitted.

"Don't be sorry, I suspected as much when we first talked about it. You have to deal with a lot of information coming at you very quickly, and you understand more than most would expect you to. I know some of the others would prefer you never heard half of what I have told you, but from what I have known before it is better you hear as much of the truth as it is safe for you to know. You will be much better off in the long run if you go into this with more information." Galahad explained.

"If it is so important, why would they want to keep me ignorant?" Garion continued to question eagerly.

"I know you don't want to hear this Garion, but most of the adults around you are only going to see you as a boy for a few more years yet. You can either let that bother you, or you can use that to your advantage." Galahad advised as the boat finally took off from the dock, Queen Layla already crying tears of fear for her husband with the boat not even ten feet away from the dock.

"How can I possibly use everyone treating me like a child to my advantage?" Garion asked grumpily.

"By learning as much as you can, people talk, and when they do important information could be passed along. I don't know very many men that would think to guard their words from the boy sitting off in the corner. People will underestimate you, and that can be a very useful thing." Galahad explained.

"Just how much longer are we going to be following this quest thing? Does anyone even know that much?" Garion grumbled, going silent on the issue of age.

"We know most of what needs to happen during our journey, what we don't have any idea about is the length of time it will take to complete everything. Just trust that things will work out the way they are supposed to, and keep your eyes open and your ears sharp. Now what do you say, should we get back to your signing lessons? There has been enough talk of adventures and murky futures for today." Galahad asked.

"I suppose, we will have the rest of the trip to talk some more." Garion observed.

"Yes we do." Galahad agreed, he wondered if Garion even remembered the second question he asked. Galahad was not sure he wanted to answer the boy on just how harshly he might be treated in Cherek. They weren't bad people, but that didn't mean he was safe either.


	7. Truth Is A Bitter Pill

**The One With The Serpent Tongue**

**Shadow of an Echo  
**

**Chapter Seven**

**Truth is a Bitter Pill**

They docked the ship in the harbor of Val Alorn, the capital city, where there was horse drawn carriages waiting to take them to the palace. So far Galahad had only received a few mistrusting looks, but he knew that was just because he had positioned himself in the middle of the group. There was definitely a reason his first trip to Cherek had been so short, and why he took to Silk far quicker than he had warmed up to Barak.

When they reached the palace he heard Garion's sharp intake of breath, and he couldn't help but silently agree with the boy. The palace was like nothing he had ever seen before in any city, and it wasn't because of grandeur, it was because whole wings of the large building were falling in to the point the elements had to be getting inside. Why would a palace be built so large just to let it fall to rubble?

"What one king builds, another lets fall. Cherek is divided into Clans with many civil wars happening between them in the past. When a new king from a different clan comes into power, he lets the old rot. King Anheg is my cousin; I inherited his title of earl and clan chief when he became king because you can't be both." Galahad heard Barak's explanation from his spot and couldn't quite stop the shake of his head at the sheer idiocy. He was at least wise enough to keep his mouth shut in present company, but he couldn't help being a little biased, the Chereks didn't like him because of an ancestry he didn't have, wasn't he entitled to a little mutual bias?

He was relieved when they finally were allowed out of the carriages and escorted inside. It was cold out, snow was on the ground, and he was far more serpentine than the typical human was, he preferred warmth to cold any day. Putting his hand reassuringly on Garion's shoulder like he had done in Sendaria they followed the group inside, and he was surprised to see them greeted by three women with a bearing that could only come from being queen.

"Who are they?" Garion asked quietly.

"The only one I recognize is the small blonde one, she is Queen Porenn of Drasnia, I met her not long before I came to Faldor's farm with you and Pol. The others I am not so sure about." Galahad admitted; he really didn't like not knowing the answers.

"The dark haired one is Islena, Anheg's wife," Silk supplied as he came out of nowhere to stand on Galahad's other side. "The third is Silar of Algaria. I bet they are here to take us to where their husbands are meeting."

Silk's prediction turned out to be true as they were led to a large hall with five thrones, four of which were occupied. "The fat one in red is my uncle Rhodar; he is the one with the reindeer banner. The one in black is Cho-Hag of Algaria, no surprise he has the horse banner. The one with no crown dressed in grey, is Brand the Rivan warder, he has the sword banner. Anheg is the one greeting Fulrich." Silk supplied them with more information.

"They do know this place would be a haven for spies, right?" Galahad asked the actual graduate from the academy.

"I don't know for sure, Porenn actually controls the spy network, not Rhodar. He might know, but whether or not he has said anything is up for question, and unfortunately queens aren't given much say in the Cherek circle of politics." Silk admitted.

"I doubt they will listen to me, none of the kings has ever met me yet, do you think they would listen to you?" Galahad asked. He was worried about what might be overheard if they didn't get some modicum of privacy.

"Worth a try," Silk agreed and he went up to speak to his uncle under his breath. He didn't want to announce to the chamber why he was concerned. If he proclaimed his intentions just a bit too forcefully it would inform any potential spies that they would be discussing things worth listening to, the less temptation for spying the better.

Less than five minutes later Rhodar was asking Anheg if there was a different room they could use. The other king had seen Silk come up to Rhodar, and anyone with half a brain knew the king's nephew had a reputation as one of the best spies to ever graduate from the national academy. If he was concerned, there was a reason to be.

"I know a room we can use." Anheg announced, "Please follow me it's not far." Anheg seemed to direct this at King Cho-Hag, which baffled Galahad, until he saw the slim Algarian warrior come out of the shadows and help the king to his feet. The man continued to support Cho-Hag out of the hall and towards the meeting chamber Anheg was leading them to.

Galahad gently held Garion back from following Belgarath and Polgara out of the room until Silk caught up with them again. "What is wrong with Cho-Hag?" Galahad asked in concern falling into step behind the others.

"An illness when he was young severely weakened his legs, normally this would be very bad for a king, but since the Algars are a cavalry race he is fine. Once you get him on a horse there is no one stronger than him on the battlefield. The warrior helping him is his adopted son Hettar, rumor has it he has killed more Murgos with his blades than anyone else in Aloria, and having seen him fight I have half a mind to believe it." Silk explained.

As they reached the meeting room, Polgara was waiting for them, or more specifically Garion. "This is going to be a long council, you will probably get bored before it's over, why don't you have Barak show you the Armory?" She said in a tone that suggested it wasn't a choice.

"I want to be there Aunt Pol, I won't be in the way, I promise." Garion asked, sick of being forced out of things.

"I don't think that a very good idea Garion." She tried again and Galahad found himself stepping in.

"Pol, I think it will be alright, I will keep an eye on him inside." He said aloud for Garion's benefit. Silently he thought to her, _"You knew this day would come, you can't keep the truth from him forever, he is a smart lad, but if you keep sheltering him he will find out some other way. Do you really want him finding out a mixed up version of the truth from someone else, rather than having him hear it from us directly? Give him a chance Polgara!" _Galahad locked eyes with her, this was one fight with he wasn't willing to yield on, and eventually the force of his gaze made her turn away from him.

_"Oh alright, but you better take care of him, this is a lot for anyone to handle even him."_ Polgara replied in his mind, but to the others she just sighed and said, "If you really insist on being there I can't stop you, but just remember I warned you it would be boring, if you get restless you will just have to live with it."

XXXXXX

"The West is crawling with Murgos, Belgarath, even the Nadraks and Thulls have been spotted in larger numbers, and the seas are full of Mallorean ships. You can't lie to us and say something big isn't happening. Are you going to just tell us or do we have to find a way to force it out of you!" Rhodar and Anheg had been arguing with the immortal man for what seemed like ages and they had gotten nowhere, the other kings had the good sense to shut up after the first twenty minutes, letting the two more talkative rulers try to wear him down. They had started out with less exact questions, getting more to the point as they went on. The last question was the most direct one and was said out of pure frustration, they normally had more diplomacy.

"Father, it is their world too, they need to know. We have already started circulating the old stories again it will be safe enough." Polgara had finally had enough of Belgarath's stalling and turned towards the kings to answer their very valid worries.

"First off, we are aware of the excessive Angarak movements, but we truly believe they are not ready for war yet, this is simply a distraction. All of their leaders are working together for once in their lives, this may not last long, but they are covering for the thief to make it back into their territories. Whether this is to steal the Orb from him, or help him keep it, we do not know yet. We were following their trail when King Fulrich had his men corral us. All you need to know is that the only reason war will come is if we can somehow get the Orb back into the west, at least a war amongst human fighters any way. If Zedar manages to get the Orb to Torak we will have much more to worry about than a few extra Angaraks." Polgara informed them seriously and Galahad heard his surrogate nephew draw in a quick breath as he realized just how important their quest was going to be.

"Thank you Polgara for telling us the truth, but I have a question, how do you plan on getting the Orb back? Even if you find Zedar before he crosses the border into Angarak lands no one can pick up the Orb unless they are of the Rivan line or have a purely innocent soul. I know of no man or boy that fits that description." Brand the Rivan warder spoke up; he had the most guilt to bear for letting the orb be stolen.

"Zedar found a way to steal it, so we will find a way to get it back." Polgara assured.

"Polgara is there something you know that you are not telling us?" Anheg asked with a piercing gaze at the ageless sorceress.

"Yes, but there is a reason we haven't told you." Galahad did not know why she told the truth, but always knew Pol had a problem with lying if there wasn't a very good reason for it.

Anheg's gaze moved from Polgara's icy gray ones to look at the only companion that hadn't been introduced to the group, Garion, who sat in the protective custody of the missing Brother. "I would like to speak with you in my study later, privately, if that is alright Polgara?" Anheg requested his eyes never moving from Garion.

Garion was not stupid and Galahad immediately saw the look of realization pass across his face, the boy knew they were going to be discussing him. "Garion, I know what you are thinking, but don't get involved. This is not the time or the place for you to find out, when the time comes I will tell you everything you need to know. Do you trust me?" Galahad spoke calmly to the boy, not wanting to attract anyone's attention to their conversation, but knowing if he didn't say something now Garion would probably try to follow Polgara later, and in the middle of a crowded palace where anyone could overhear his surprise was not a good place for him to learn the truth of his destiny.

"But Uncle, why can't I know now, what could possibly be so big you have to hide it from me?" Garion demanded to know, and Galahad felt he had a right to.

"I understand how you feel Garion, believe me Garion I have been there, trust me when I say you will not thank the person that tells you the truth. The truth is not an easy answer and you will be better off just watching and learning. Just know you should learn all you can, don't worry about the why yet." Galahad knew he made Garion into the biggest bloodhound possible with that statement, but he didn't like lying and he was trying to protect Garion.

"Alright, I will do as you say but please keep your word. I want to know everything good or bad." Garion replied before turning back to the discussion with the kings.

"What should we do while we wait for you to finish your quest?" The strong words coming from Cho-Hag's mouth did not match his weakened body, but it had a soft undertone from all his years calming skittish horses.

"Get your armies back into shape, we might need a distraction, or in the worst case there will be war in the future. Have your men ready to fight and get as many women as you can trained up in battle medicine. We want as many of your soldiers to come back to their homes alive as we can manage." Belgarath answered this one, as unfortunately some of the kings might have trouble taking military advice from a woman, even one of Polgara's status.

"That will be easy enough to do, anything else?" Anheg asked, as the host king he had more power at this meeting.

"Well we will need passage through your countries without anymore summons without very good reason, we are on a time constraint and any time we take up with talking to you would be better used finding the Orb. Oh, and Cho-Hag I need Hettar to come with us." Belgarath told them, his eyes moving to the lean warrior that had helped Cho-Hag walk to the meeting room.

"No, I am needed here!" The warrior's voice was even softer than the king's, but there was no doubting his sincerity.

"Hettar, as your king and father, I say go with them. I never meant for you to spend your whole life being my walking stick, I will manage with another if you are needed for their quest." Cho-hag ordered his adoptive son.

"But, father, a different Algar would do just fine; my place is here with you." Hettar argued right back.

"That is not true." Belgarath interrupted, "Or has there been another Sha-Dar born that I don't know about?"

"Hettar is this true?" Cho-Hag asked and at his hesitant nod he gushed, "My son a horse speaker, why didn't you tell me!"

"I didn't think it was important." Hettar answered wincing at his father's sputtering.

"Not important, Hettar you know a Sha-Dar is not found even once a decade. Now I know you must go with them, your family and country is behind you, we will have to celebrate this when I return." Cho-Hag's tone made Hettar realize arguing anymore would be useless.

"Alright Belgarath, you win," Hettar finally agreed, and Galahad mentally took another name off his list of people they needed to gather. The Horse Lord had been found.

As much as Galahad attempted to keep Garion from getting into trouble, he underestimated just how badly Garion wanted to know things. Thus when the boy came rocketing into his room shaking and half crying, Galahad was at a loss at what to do. "You followed your aunt didn't you?"

"Yes," Garion replied through his tears.

"What did you hear?" Galahad was concerned that Anheg had revealed just one thing too much, as smart as Garion was, he just wasn't ready for the whole truth just yet. It was too early.

"King Anheg knows doesn't he?" Garion lifted his head and nearly shouted through his tears. "Other people know the truth and I don't! It's my life and I want to know! Please tell me, Uncle, the mark on my hand, Aunt Pol told me it was a birthmark, why should this mark mean so much?" Here Garion opened up his hand revealing the silvery mark left by the Orb's legacy. "King Anheg saw it, and he knows, even when I don't."

Galahad just sighed and made a mental note to yell at Polgara later for not noticing Garion was eavesdropping. "I will answer your question Garion, and I will tell you the truth, but I really don't think now is a good time. I told you before I wouldn't lie to you, and I won't, but this is bigger than you realize. Are you sure you want to know, think hard Garion, is this what you want?"

"Yes, Uncle, I want to know. Tell me please?" Garion begged, tears still soaking his eyes.

Taking Garion's hand in his own, he covered the silver mark up, leaning closer to the scared boy he whispered in his ear. "Your father was a very important person, from a very important bloodline. Polgara has been protecting and hiding your family for generations, just so you would be born unharmed. This bloodline is so old and important that the birthmark that you have from your family is mentioned in quite a few texts, and in the prophecies we have all been following it is you who they were written for, and it will be you who has to finish what was started. The only comfort I can give you is you are not alone, other names are written in the prophecies, names written in the stars just as brightly as your own that will help you along the path. In the end it will be you though who has to end it. Your safety is now in jeopardy because I told you this, when we give you an order you had better listen, it might just save your life. Those enemies you were warned about are stronger and closer than ever."

"What is the bloodline?" Garion asked as the magnitude of his destiny was thrust upon him; even the small amount Galahad told him was overwhelming.

"That is something I will not tell you. I have risked your life enough just by telling you this much, you will only know more when the time is right not before." Galahad refused to let Garion know he was destined to be the Godslayer that was just too much.

"What are the other names you mentioned, what is mine?" Garion let his innate curiosity take over the questioning, he was working on pure autopilot not sure if he really wanted the answers but unable to move on without them.

"I will tell you the prophecy names, but not who they really are, that would put them in danger too, their names are; the One With The Serpent Tongue, the Horse Lord, the Guide, the Dreadful Bear, the Mother of the Race Who Died, the Bowman, the Knight Protector, the Man with Two Lives, the Eternal Man, the Queen of the World, the Blind Man, the Woman of the Roses, and the Child of Light." Galahad decided to give Garion the less intimidating of his titles, he was the Child of Light, but he was also the Godslayer.

"I am the Child of Light?" Garion figured out from the process of elimination, none of the other names fit him.

"Yes, but I wouldn't say that too loudly, or in the wrong place." Galahad warned again.

"Just how dangerous is this?" Garion was getting impatient with all the warnings, he wasn't a child anymore, and he knew how to keep his mouth shut.

"Half the people of this world would kill us without question if there was even a hint about the true nature of our quest floating around. That is why we are so careful about disguises and security." Galahad replied bluntly, knowing if he didn't nip the irritation in the bud, Garion would begin to rebel putting him in an immeasurable amount of danger.

Garion's eyes widened at that, he took in a long breath, held it in, exhaled, and finally answered. "Well you did warn me I would regret asking, but thank you Uncle Galahad."

"Listen, Garion, there is far more to everything we do than meets the eye, you will have to learn to fly before you are taught to walk. We can help you only as far as we are allowed, I believe you should know as much as possible about what is coming, but it is simply too much for you to take at one time. Trust me, please, give me that much that you only ask the questions that are most important to you." Galahad explained seriously, knowing either Garion would be able to handle it or he wouldn't.

"I understand," Garion mumbled, his mind overwhelmed already, "I finally get what you have been warning me about. I am not ready yet am I?" He shook his head gently, but laid it back down on Galahad's knee, "but I will be."

Galahad heard the final words muttered by Garion as his breathing evened out and the protective realm of sleep came over him. Galahad knew he had been right to give him just that much, Garion understood, and he wore himself out making that connection, but it was finally there. He knew why they wouldn't tell him certain things and that would make the future go much smoother.

Picking up the near comatose boy, a task made difficult by the fact they were nearly the same height already, he laid Garion gently on the bed and after making sure he was comfortable Galahad left to find Polgara, the sorceress had some explaining to do. Why hadn't she known Garion was there?

"So are you going to explain how you didn't know our nephew was listening to you and Anheg?" Galahad had his arms crossed over his chest and was leaning mock casually against the wall of Polgara's quarters when the sorceress returned to them.

"Garion was there?" Polgara seemed honestly shocked.

"Yes he was, and he heard enough to make him curious, the little I told him made him cry himself to sleep. Polgara what could have possibly been so important that you didn't know he was there?" Galahad was confused. Polgara was the most alert of all of them usually, what had distracted her?

"Anheg wants to keep Garion in Val Alorn, and I have to admit I am tempted, he would be safer here than wherever we are likely to end up when we follow Zedar." Polgara admitted.

"Pol we both know it is not that simple, Garion will soon be the biggest target in the West. If we succeed and somehow get the Orb back, the Angaraks will stop looking for us and focus on him, not to mention we may need him to get the Orb back to the west. He is much safer with us than with strangers, and he will have to face his destiny sooner or later, that might be the key to ending this without bloodshed." Galahad argued.

Polgara just stared him down, but couldn't hold it for long she knew he was right. "Alright, Garion stays with us, but how are we going to protect him? I already failed him once, what if it happens again?" Her grief still ran very deep from the time she was tricked which cost Garion his whole family in one night.

Galahad then did a very unusual thing, he went over and hugged the women he though of like a true sister, both of them had the same mother in Poledra. "Will you stop beating yourself up over that, any one of us would have fallen for the same trick. Come on snap out of it, your grief is clouding your judgment. Garion is strong, smart, and old enough he doesn't need a babysitter anymore, but he could use an Aunt. He will soon be overwhelmed with the truth and will need help to put the pieces of his life back together, now come on and lets go tell Anheg that Garion stays with us, then we can track down your father and decide the best way to continue our quest. We could be gone by daylight tomorrow and no one will know where we are heading." Galahad had stood by for too long while she punished herself, he had heard about the deep depression she had fallen into with the death of her twin, and it seemed like loosing so many at once had brought a shadow of that former pain back to haunt her.

"I think you are right." Polgara replied, pulling herself back together bit by bit. She was a strong woman, but three thousand years of history would weigh down the soul of a saint. "Let's go find the Old Wolf."

XxXxXxXxX

True to Galahad's prediction, they were on their way out of the palace on foot before the sun had peaked above the horizon. They would reach the harbor where their boat was moored when no other human was awake yet, and the few animals meandering around where either ready for sleep or not yet fully awake.

Garion was still blinking the sleep from his eyes as they left Val Alorn behind, he was standing shoulder to shoulder with Galahad peering sightlessly across the white tipped waves created by the ship's bow as they slipped through the steely predawn water. "We are heading to Arendia then?" Garion finally asked after a long, not too awkward, silence.

"Yes, we will be picking up two of our companions there." Galahad responded, avoiding the inevitable why that would come out of Garion's mouth.

"Which two?" Garion asked having made sure to remember all the names Galahad told him the other day.

"The Bowman, and the Knight Protector," Galahad replied, adjusting his own well used, but finely crafted, bow onto a slightly more comfortable spot across his back.

"I have never seen you use your bow before, why is that?" Garion asked curiously, Galahad's fidgeting had brought the weapon to his attention.

"I only use it to hunt, and protect us, I don't like wasting arrows." Galahad explained that much. He had never been one for target practice or tournaments; his bow was a weapon for killing. He did not like it to be made out as some toy that was how innocent people got hurt.

"That makes sense, but if we have you along, why do we need this Bowman?" Garion was admittedly confused with the seemingly extra person.

"Remember me telling you how the Drasnian spies earned their names?" He paused and waited for Garion's nod, "Well this is similar. The prophecies use the attribute of the person that is the most descriptive of them. Some are more obscure than others are. The name Bowmen is giving us a clue where we can find him. If you are looking for a good archer, than we need an Asturian Arend, they are the best with a bow. Just like we needed Hettar who has a gift with horses, the Algars are known for their horses, so when the prophecies named a horse lord they knew where to look." Galahad explained.

"Since you have told me who Hettar is, can you tell me who everyone else is?" Garion begged, wanting something to think about as they rode.

"Garion why don't you try to figure it out, I gave you one answer free and clear, but honestly, his was not hard to figure out from the names I told you." Galahad challenged.

"Well I can guess you are the One With The Serpent Tongue," Garion grinned at that, knowing that was the only name he could possibly be. Galahad just nodded in the affirmative. "I am going to say Mr. Wolf is the Eternal Man," Garion added on, still not quite able to bring himself to call him Belgarath or even grandfather just yet.

"Alright you are on the right path, any more guesses?" Galahad encouraged Garion's reasoning skills.

"Not right now, but I will keep watching." Garion assured his Uncle, finally having something to distract himself with during the long voyage to come.

The trip to northern Arendia took quite a bit of time, and during that time, Garion had his fifteenth birthday. He got a few useful gifts from the companions, and one that was a bit out of place, a circular silver medallion with a carving of a sword piercing a crown. When Garion put it on it made Galahad reach up to his own pendant, his was also silver, and carved into the metal was a snake wrapped around a dagger. These were no mere ornaments, they were focuses for their Will, and even though Garion had not used his Will yet, they all knew it was there. The way Garion was now reminded Galahad of himself, back in his younger days, when he did accidental magic. It was never anything big or attention grabbing, but it was there.

When they reached the destroyed capital of the former duchy of Vo Wacune it was time to stop and wait, the Bowman would be coming to them while they were here.

Garion had been going off by himself for at least a couple hours everyday since they had arrived in the ruined city of Vo Wacune. Well at least Garion thought he was alone, Galahad was making good on his prophetic name and had been tailing him on his adventures. With the knowledge Garion now had he was now an ever growing target for Grolims. Galahad did not expect to see a high-powered Grolim here but it was best not to get in the habit of letting Garion wonder off.

The only problem he had while tailing Galahad is a snake is a cold-blooded creature and it was cold and slushy outside, as it was still early in the spring thaw, especially here where the overgrown trees blocked a good majority of the sunlight from melting the snow. No breed of snake could withstand these cold temperatures for long without hibernation. Well a Basilisk might, but he was not about to try that form here, too risky, while he was sure he could manage the transformation, he was not about to put the companions at risk. He had yet to find a way to become a Basilisk without the poison stare, in his attempts it just made him blind while in the form of the huge snake. The only thing he could do was hide buried in Garion's cloak, in the smallest form he possessed, and hope the young man didn't feel him through his tunic.

He knew he didn't have to take the form of a snake, but he preferred it, and after spending so long as one he didn't like going for too long without transforming. He knew that would only make the hiss in his voice more pronounced for awhile, but he really didn't care, the snake form just felt too good to him.

He let Garion have the time he needed to figure things out for himself, he had been hit with so much lately a little time alone wasn't too much to ask, and Galahad did feel a bit guilty for intruding on Garion's private time. While Galahad knew it wasn't safe to let Garion be by himself, he understood the need, so he just kept a silent vigil and didn't interfere or interact.

This day Galahad felt restless in his observation. He had a niggling feeling they would add the Bowman to the little group very soon. Belgarath had the task of locating the families that would produce the people they needed, so Galahad honestly didn't have a clue who they were looking for. It wouldn't be safe for the Bowman if people found out who they were before he was in their protective custody. It didn't help that this morning had dawned with a thick fog reducing visibility to only a few feet in any direction.

When the sound of horse hooves started to reach the ears of both waiting men, Galahad felt Garion's muscles tense. As the hooves got even closer, the boy dropped into a crouch and his hand dipped into his tunic for his knife.

Garion's nerves were shot and he had been warned repeatedly about the dangers in the real world. When the hooves reached his ears he panicked, and readied himself for a fight, that is when he felt it, a slight wiggling between his tunic and the warm cloak his Aunt Pol had forced him into this morning. Reaching towards the annoyance with the hand not occupied by a sharp blade, he was surprised when soft skin met chilly scales.

He felt the scales wrap around his wrist and when he pulled his hand free, he now had a small green garter snake for a bracelet. Looking the small serpent over he noticed something odd, the snake's eyes were green, not the normal black or brown he had seen on the garter snakes at home, that made him just a little suspicious, and he voiced those suspicions. "Uncle Galahad?" To his surprise, the snake nodded.

"Who's there?" A strange voice called out from just a few yards away. It startled Garion just as the shock of a nodding snake was upon him, making him drop the knife in his hand, and it struck the unmaintained stone road with the loud unmistakable sound of metal on stone.

Out of the mist, the tip of an arrow became visible to Galahad, as well as the familiar sound of a bow being drawn. Wiggling frantically, he was lucky Garion got the message and put him down. He made more sound than was probably good for him changing back to his human form, he immediately had an arrow pointed right back at the intruder, angled down slightly, in a defensive but not threatening position. "We are not here to cause you any harm, please lower your bow." Galahad asked even as he sent a message to Belgarath and Polgara telling them the Bowman was here.

"How do I know you mean no harm?" The stranger asked, only slightly dropping the arrow tip, he could still strike easily enough though.

"If I wanted you dead you would already be gone." Galahad assured him.

The man became visible then as he took a few steps closer, and Galahad recognized him as an Asturian Arend, even though he was more flamboyantly dressed than any noble Galahad had ever seen. Just as Galahad was about to once again ask him to lower his weapon Belgarath arrived.

"Lelldorin, what in the world are you wearing?" The Eternal man asked as he caught sight of the oddly dressed man.

"It isn't safe for an Asturian to travel alone, the Mimbrates have taken to harassing us even on the highways, so I figured if I dressed like one of their toadies I wouldn't be bothered." Lelldorin explained, the simple plan a trademark of the race, but as Galahad thought about it at least this one made some sense. He had definitely heard much worse plans during his time spent with the Arends.

"Oh, well come on then, its cold out here and we have much to talk about." Belgarath invited.

"I will as soon as I see to my horse, I left her behind when I heard strange voices." Lelldorin accepted.

"Go on and get warmed up, Garion and I will take care of her for you since it was our fault you left her behind." Galahad offered knowing Garion was going to have questions for him.

"Thank you," Lelldorin replied, not commenting on Galahad's strange voice just yet. He was more focused on following Belgarath through the mist.

"Come on Garion, let's round up the poor thing, this mist isn't good for horses either. You can ask any questions you have now that we are alone." Galahad offered as they followed Lelldorin's footsteps until they found the place he dismounted and they began following the impressions of hooves in the slush.

"Lelldorin is the Bowman isn't he?" Garion started out easy as Galahad answered with a nod.

Galahad knew the next question was coming before Garion asked it, "Have you been following me the whole time we have been here?"

"Yes, and I am sorry, I know you wanted to be alone for awhile, but we can't let you go very far alone, you are very precious to us. Even if there are no Grolims about, accidents still happen. I tried to leave you in peace but when he came along, I knew you needed back up; a knife is no defense against a bow if you never learned how to fight properly. Which we should probably work on rectifying as it is." Galahad tried to explain as thoroughly as he could, while making sure Garion knew he did feel sorry for intruding.

"Is this the first time you followed me?" Garion accused, getting a bit huffy with all of these secrets.

"No, it isn't the first. I was more or less constantly around you at Faldor's farm, I only came around as human when I felt I was needed, or I just wanted to visit. We have been protecting and guarding you throughout your life, and it hasn't stopped you from enjoying life so far, so please let us keep doing it. I try to keep interference to a minimum because I know how it feels to never have freedom. I want you to have a life, but a part of that is helping you live to see the best parts of it, let us help you do that." Galahad tried to get Garion to understand but wasn't sure if he was succeeding.

"I understand, but I still don't like it. I can take care of myself!" Garion objected, and Galahad could see part of the truth in it.

"Listen to me Garion, yes, you are old enough to take care of yourself, but you don't know how yet. I will feel a lot better if we started to teach you how to use a weapon, any one will do, if I knew you had that protection I wouldn't be so worried all the time." Galahad admitted.

Garion sighed before answering, "Alright I will listen to you, but what do you suggest I learn?" He asked as they finally found the wayward horse munching on a tuft of grass, her ears swiveling in all directions listening for danger.

"We are limited to what we know how to teach, but I would suggest you get used to a sword, you may need it later. The only problem with that is you need to be a bit bigger to properly handle one, because it is just as dangerous for you if the blade is so heavy it throws you off balance. I can start you out with daggers though, but I know Hettar has a saber, and Silk a rapier. They are small blades compared to what you will eventually use, but it is a place to start." Galahad answered, not mentioning he two knew how to use those smaller blades, but he wanted Garion to form friendships with the other companions, he loved his nephew but he needed to socialize a bit more, it wouldn't be good for him to only talk with Galahad.

"Fine, but when will we start?" Garion asked impatient to earn a bit of freedom, even if he wasn't sure why Galahad was insisting he learn to use a sword when his uncle didn't carry one himself.

"We will probably start traveling soon, as we have who we came here for, so we will have to teach you after we set up camp in the evenings. It will be a bit harder to learn if there isn't good light, but you will not be fighting under optimal conditions all the time so you might as well learn in less than stellar ways." Galahad replied, as they finally reached the broken down tower they had been staying in since arriving. They had their own horses picketed outside and they left Lelldorin's mare with them, the fresh hay and good water attracting her attention immediately, letting the two men enter the shelter.


	8. Dangerous Knowledge

**The One With The Serpent Tongue**

**Shadow of an Echo  
**

**Chapter Eight**

**Dangerous Knowledge **

It turned out Galahad was wrong about their departure, they stayed a few more days in Arendia, but since they were learning about the quest, it was time well spent. The thief finally had a name, Zedar the Apostate, he was a former member of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, but now his soul belonged to Torak. His goal was to get the Orb to his dangerous new god, while their task was to stop him. What Galahad knew was Belgarath only told the group the first, and by far the simplest, part of the prophecies. Having read the documents himself Galahad knew there was too much after this point for it to end so easily, the real struggle would come once the Orb was back in the West. It would mark a turning point in history, setting off its own string of events.

When they finally did move out from Vo Wacune, Galahad found himself mostly alone for the first time since they left Faldor's farm. Garion had found a friend in Lelldorin, which didn't surprise Galahad, finally there was someone on the quest around Garion's age. Galahad might look like he was sixteen, he had been slowly removing the glamours that made him older, but he was the third oldest in the group, Garion couldn't connect with him the way he could Lelldorin.

After a few days of silent riding, he was surprised at the sound of a horse approaching him, only to pull up alongside so they could talk more easily, "I see you have lost your shadow, trouble in paradise?" Silk asked, sounding as bored as Galahad was becoming.

"Not trouble, this is good for Garion," Galahad replied, looking to the two young men riding near Polgara. "He grew up a bit too sheltered, it was for his protection, but I feel relieved to see him interacting with more people than those he was raised with."

Silk was quiet for a moment, before asking, "What about you? The boy has been sticking to you like a barnacle since we started this journey, surely you are feeling a little abandoned."

"I won't lie and say I didn't enjoy the company, but I have lived a large portion of my life in solitary study or travel, this isn't the first time I have been alone on the road. Besides, the rest of you are here, I'm not completely by myself." Galahad tried to explain.

"What good is it to have companions if you never speak? You, my friend, need to stop thinking like you are alone, and start to join in more. What could it hurt?" Silk encouraged.

Galahad didn't want to say his exact thoughts on that, yes it could hurt, the more he spoke the greater the chance he might slip and tell about an incident from his past that wouldn't be possible on this world. Yes, he has centuries' worth of stories from this place, but he was still shaped by his history in Britain, things would eventually leak through, "Well, I won't make any promises, but I haven't shaken you off yet, so obviously I am not intentionally avoiding people." A little white lie never hurt anyone, right?

Silk gave him a lazy look, that didn't fool Galahad in the slightest, Silk had the most observant eyes of any in the group, that was why he was the Guide. "Why do you feel like you have to lie? We all have our secrets, and you simply have to learn to speak around them. You are missing out on the best part of the journey if you do nothing but watch." Silk warned.

"Oh I know how to speak around them, but a part of me is not going to want to. My secrets are an integral part of who I am, I would either be forced to lie, or say things I would rather stay hidden." Galahad confessed, figuring if Silk already knew a good bit about it, then it wouldn't hurt for Galahad to inform him more deeply.

"That is often the case," Silk agreed, "But you should know the more secretive you are, the better chance someone will get curious and try to uncover what you are hiding," It was worded as a friendly warning, but Galahad heard the challenge for what it was loud and clear.

"If you start digging, you may not like what you find." Galahad knew that wasn't enough to stop him, nothing would, but at least Silk couldn't claim he wasn't warned if he learned something he was unprepared for.

"You might just be surprised at what I can handle," Silk replied blandly, reading Galahad like a book.

That was the point Galahad felt he might have met his match. Very few people could read him even half as well as Silk, but to the Drasnian Galahad might as well have been shouting his intentions to the crowd. "What brought this on anyway? Why bug me when the others could use some entertainment?" Galahad thought that was a safe enough question, he really didn't want Silk to start digging into his past while the others were in earshot.

"You interest me," He shrugged, "I know quite a bit about the others, but not about you." He seemed frustrated with his lack of knowledge, just as he had during their first conversation on the way to Darine.

"What's so interesting about me?" Galahad challenged, his curiosity peaked at how much Silk might reveal in his frustration.

Silk looked at him incredulously, "You honestly have to ask that? You are a walking mystery any spy worth his title would die to learn about. You keep your secrets so closely guarded I only know you have them, not what they are. By now I can tell you a fact about every member of this group that they wouldn't want people to know, all except you."

Galahad couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped him, something he tried to avoid doing as the hiss in his voice entered his laugh and made it a tad bit creepy for others to hear, "You know if the others heard you just now, you would be in a bit of danger, no one likes knowing their secrets aren't secret anymore." Of course, Galahad didn't say he probably knew the same things Silk did about their companions, he was only better at not letting others know he knew.

Silk didn't seem concerned, "I'm always in some kind of trouble," He said, deflecting the comment. "So, are you going to fill me in or not?" He wasn't begging, the smooth spy had too much pride to beg, but it was a very close thing.

Galahad liked teasing Silk, so instead of remaining quiet as he probably should have, he encouraged the man's curiosity, "On what exactly? There are many things, but I don't know if I want to tell you or not."

"What are you willing to tell?" Silk knew Galahad was messing with him, but he wanted the information too much to care.

"Oh no, that's not how this works. I don't go blabbing my secrets aimlessly, if you want to know, you are going to have to ask." Galahad enjoyed this game, it wasn't often he got to play like this.

"Fine, if that's how you want it. I know how old you are, and I know you are part of the Brotherhood, but where do you come from? You don't quite match any race I know of, and trust me, I'm good at knowing that." Trust Silk to ask the one question Galahad point blank refused to answer to start off.

"Does it really matter? My home is in the Vale of Aldur, how I got there is unimportant." Galahad tried to divert Silk's attention away from the topic, maybe if he played it off as uninteresting Silk would move onto safer ground.

Whether Silk believed him, or knew he wouldn't get any further with that strain of questions, Galahad didn't know, but Silk's next question moved on from the dangerous topic. "Do you happen to have a companion somewhere out in the world?" Galahad knew he wasn't being asked about friendships.

"Nothing permanent, I have enjoyed myself in the past, but they were never meant to be lasting." Galahad admitted, figuring he owed Silk a bit of information as he had been unwilling to answer his first question.

Silk seemed to debate with himself a bit, shaking his head as if he were discarding a possible question, "I won't ask more questions on that until we have some privacy." Silk had some sense of propriety, or he simply knew Galahad would be far more forthcoming if he wasn't worried about being overheard, "How many weapons are on you at the moment?" That was a seemingly safe question, but for a spy to ask, it meant Galahad had done a better job of hiding his assorted blades than he thought he had.

"Hmm, let me think," Galahad started patting various parts of his clothing as he named them off, "I have four Nadrak daggers, six Drasnian throwing daggers of various weights, a few poisons, a vial of snake venom, a garrote, two Ulgo knives, and my bow." As he touched each weapon, Galahad remembered a time it saved his life, or ended another's. They were precious to him.

"I think I finally understand why you dress the way you do, I have almost as much on me, but you hide yours better." Silk was dutifully impressed at the arsenal. Galahad was a dangerous person, but Silk was only beginning to realize how dangerous he really was. "Wait a second. Did you just say you had Ulgo knives? Where on Earth did you get those?"

Galahad smiled, not being able to resist the opening Silk had handed him, "Why in Ulgoland, where else?"

"You survived the Valley of Monsters?" Silk was more impressed by that than the amount of weapons Galahad was carrying.

"When travelling near monsters, being small is the way to go, I didn't go through there as a human." Galahad informed him, what he didn't say was he was heading out of Prolgu, not in.

Their conversation slowly dwindled into a story session with Galahad sharing a few more of his adventures, not having to constrain himself with the time span now that his secret was out. Soon it was time to camp for the night, a handy clearing in the Arendish forest giving them a place to set up camp.

A group of robbers swarming their tents shattered the peaceful night. Galahad was up and fighting before anyone else, fending off the attackers with his arrows and the occasional dagger. However, once Lelldorin began firing his own bow, Galahad let the Asturian take over that side and concentrated on his blades, cold steel soon covered in crimson blood.

He didn't have time to worry about the others, he knew they could take care of themselves, but when a heart stopping growl rent the air he was brought out of his bloodlust long enough to see one of the robbers running with an incapacitated Garion. The growl had come from Barak living up to his title of Dreadful Bear, he stood tall, broad, and angry. Barak gave chase to Garion's abductors, Galahad fighting every instinct in his body to let him handle it, Barak's transformation was triggered so he could protect Garion. Besides, there were more robbers coming, his skill was needed here.

Lost once more in battle, he wasn't sure how much time passed before the robbers were killed, or run off, and Barak was bringing a now conscious but still shook up Garion back to the clearing. "Is everyone alright?" Galahad asked the group as a whole, knowing pain could hide beneath shock until it was too late.

"Garion's got a bit of a bump on his head, but I think everyone else is fine." Belgarath answered him, watching the others. Polgara was quietly comforting Durnik in a corner of the clearing, it was the first time the strong, but gentle, blacksmith had been forced to kill. Lelldorin was with Garion and Barak, both men keeping an eye on the still dizzy boy. Silk and Hettar were clearing up the evidence from the battle, dragging the bodies of the dead robbers out of sight.

Seeing Polgara was busy, Galahad made his way over to his injured nephew, "Let me see how bad you are hurt?" He ordered gently, the boy grumbling a protest but complying anyway. Galahad gently probed the wound, checking its depth and severity; it looked like someone had slammed the butt of their sword against the back of his head. "You're lucky Garion, a few inches to the left and you would be worse off than a concussion, don't try to get up yet. I can help fix you up." Galahad informed him, and the concerned people watching them.

Galahad went over to the tents, grabbing his own bag of healing supplies, smaller than Polgara's but he would have what he needed. Polgara was a better healer than he was, but Galahad figured he could cope without pulling Polgara away from Durnik when the gentle man still needed some reassurance.

He arrived back at Garion's side, bag in hand, digging a few pouches of herbs from inside. "Alright, this might sting a little, but I have to get it cleaned out first, then a little salve to keep it from getting infected, finally I can make something to help with the dizziness. You aren't going to want to move a whole lot for the rest of the night, but you should be fine by the morning," Galahad explained before starting, moving quickly but gently, and soon he was resting back on his heals, Garion choking down a mixture of herbs and water to help clear his head.

"Why do all medicines taste so bad!" Garion spoke his first words of complaint since the treatment started, handing the empty cup back to his uncle.

"Well, if you are coherent enough to know how it tastes, it must be working," Galahad replied dryly, "I don't know why, they just do, as long as they work no point in mucking around trying to flavor them."

"So you can heal as well as fight?" Silk came over to them, Hettar and him finished with their grim clean-up.

Galahad nodded, "Polgara is better, but I can cope with the basics. I spent a lot of time in Nyissa, they are renowned for their knowledge of herbs and mixtures."

Silk looked at him funny at that statement, confusing Garion, until Silk voiced his concern, "Oh they're known for their potions alright, but I didn't think healing was really their area of expertise."

Galahad nodded, a small smile on his face, "You are right of course, but remember they don't deal in drugs alone, but poisons too. It's generally not a good idea to play around with something that could kill you without knowing how to fix yourself up later. Also I picked up battle first aid as I went along, I didn't get so good with my weapons overnight, and I have the scarring to prove I have healed myself numerous times in my years of practice."

Silk's eyes narrowed, and the conversation continued as if the two men forgot they had an audience, "When you said you were carrying a few poisons… How many is a few?"

"Enough that if I really wanted to I could poison every Legionnaire in Tolnedra," Galahad admitted, ignoring the shocked gasps from Barak and Garion. "I don't carry many different ones, but the ones I do kill quickly without using a large amount of it. Two of my throwing knives have poisoned blades, a trick I also learned in Nyissa. That isn't counting the snake venom of course, but that is for treating my arrow tips before I decorate the forehead of a Grolim." Galahad figured these people were going to see most of his skills at some point, they might as well know it out front.

"Why treat the arrow if you are hitting them in the forehead?" Hettar, who Galahad didn't even realize was listening asked. The soft spoken man had no problem getting over Galahad's revelations, after all he was pretty deadly in his own right and knew better than to underestimate someone because they were small.

"I shoot them from a distance, in the rare case that I only glance them with the arrow they still die. I save my venom for them because it really is mine. I turned into a venomous variety and had a friend of mine milk the venom. When I kill those vile priests I want it to be personal." Galahad explained, getting a bit of amusement at their assorted reactions, he didn't usually speak like this.

Silk shook his head slowly, "I was right, you are far more dangerous than you appear. You told me before that you spent a lot of time in Drasnia too, dare I ask if you were ever gifted with a name?" Silk now had some suspicions, he hoped Galahad would answer so he could know for sure.

Galahad raised an eyebrow, a teasing tone coming into his voice, "Why yes I did as a matter of fact. Surely you don't care about dusty old names given long before your time?"

"Try me," Silk challenged, "One of our tasks at the academy is to memorize the name of every high ranking operative out in the field, so if they are ever in need of assistance we know who we are helping."

"Obviously you already have an idea in mind, go ahead and make your guess and I will tell you if you are right or not?" Galahad offered, the others looking on in curiosity at the exchange, but not understanding the finer points of it.

"You're Viper aren't you?" Silk made his guess.

Galahad let out another one of his hissing chuckles, "I'm surprised it took you so long to figure it out, getting a little rusty are you Silk?"

Silk paled rather dramatically at Galahad's confirmation, a slight bit of anger showed at the rusty comment, but Galahad was right. All the clues had been staring him in the face for so long, but he never figured it out.

"What does that mean?" Garion butted in, Silk's reaction scaring him a little, "What's wrong with Silk?"

Silk answered, his voice strangled with shock, "Viper is one of our most famous operatives, he holds the record for being Hunter for the most missions. There is never personal information about those operatives in the academy, no real names, only vague descriptions, and no birthdates. I guess it would explain how you could hold the title for so many times, it wasn't in a single lifetime, but in several."

"What does it mean to be Hunter?" Barak asked, he was a melee fighter, not used to espionage, but that didn't mean he was stupid. He followed everything up to that point only losing the thread at the unfamiliar position.

"Hunter is the title given to the person undertaking the highest priority mission, only the Queen and Javelin, the head spy, knows who is Hunter at any given time until the mission is complete. Once the mission is complete, you are free to tell your comrades that you were Hunter, as it does come with bragging rights, but you are not supposed to tell the nature of the mission you were on. There are no consequences if you do, but usually a mission requiring Hunter has the potential to make enemies so you don't want them tracking you down through rumors." Galahad answered Barak's question before Silk did, he was proud of his accomplishments among the Drasnian spy network. It had been good practice, and was useful in maintaining the skills he worked so hard to learn in the first place.

"Alright Belgalahad, quit bragging and start getting everything rounded up, we aren't staying here tonight, this place was already found once." Belgarath called over to the group clustered around Galahad.

Galahad rolled his eyes at the use of his full name, something Belgarath did on the rare occasions Galahad felt like hogging the spotlight. "Why do you do that!" He snapped before rising and complying with the Eternal Man's order. The others following suit, but not before Belgarath replied back.

"What? If you are going to brag about your exploits, you should use your full name. Galahad is too humble to hold all that esteem." The words sounded like praise, but Galahad could hear the teasing tone in the old Sorcerer's voice.

Galahad waved him off, "This coming from a seven thousand year old man who was around for the cracking of the world, and the battle of Vo Mimbre, and do I really have to continue?"

"I use my full name, so your point is moot." Belgarath responded, before going to gather his own things, not that he travelled with much.

Shaking his head at the amusing exchange with his mentor's mate, Galahad readied his things for departure. If this was what it was like so early in the quest, what was going to happen when the rest of the people showed up?

He couldn't wait to see Lelldorin's face when he realized their next companion was a Mimbrate.


	9. Poisoned Promises

**The One With The Serpent Tongue**

**Shadow of an Echo**

**A/N **So, here I am, sorry for the wait. A shiny new chapter just for you. Do you like the story cover? It's both my first tattoo and the image I had in mind for Galahad's medallion.

**Chapter Nine**

**Poisoned Promises**

Mandorallen could not have had better timing. The Mimbrate knight had come bursting out of the tree line chasing after the monsters pinning the companions at the top of a hill. Algroths, a creature distantly related to trolls with howling vocals and poisoned claws, had chased them up the hill; it was the only place even slightly defensible for them to retreat to.

Lelldorin was injured, nearly pulled from his saddle, and several large deep scratches slashed their way down his side. His breathing was labored and his forehead damp with the affects of the Algroth venom. Garion and Polgara were working on him to save his life, the others all trying to keep the Algroths at bay.

Galahad had been in the middle of firing another arrow when he felt the sharp spike of Polgara's will, and turning around, he saw the woman had started a fire from damp wood. It wouldn't have been a big deal, but looking at Garion beside her the boy appeared dazed, and was shaking his head oddly as if his ears were ringing. He had heard it, Galahad was sure of it. The little uses of Will were finally adding up, Garion would have his first obvious use soon, probably within the month if Galahad's studies on the development of power held true. The potential was now there, Garion would just need the slight push that sent him over the edge and forced him to use it.

Galahad was drawn back to the battle by the howl from the Algroths, and the loud blast from Mandorallen's trumpet, the Knight wasn't hurt just issuing a challenge as far as Galahad could tell. Since Polgara had already used her Will, and if there was any Grolims in the area they knew where they were now, Galahad could call his arrows back and didn't have to worry about running out.

The creatures had thick skin and skeletons almost as tough as iron, his first arrow had only bounced off the creature, barely going deep enough to draw blood. Once he figured out the problem, it was a simple thing to aim for their eyes, when in doubt it was the softest part of a creature, the easiest place to kill them if you were a good enough shot to manage it. Galahad spent a lot of time decorating Grolim foreheads, the relatively stupid monsters didn't pose much of a challenge at this distance.

The battle was won, Mandorallen joined them at the top, and Galahad went to see if he could help Polgara fix up Lelldorin. The young archer did not look good. The vitality their short visit to his father's home had given him was draining away with every labored breath. The sorceress had already lanced the wounds and was getting ready to pour a hot concoction of herbs meant to draw the poison out. "Help Durnik hold him down, this is going to hurt." She commanded and he obeyed her quickly, Garion right beside him helping too his disorientation from the use of Will pushed back in favor of helping his friend.

When the herb-infused liquid hit the wounds, they hissed and yellow tinged puss boiled out of the scratches, the discharge stained pinkish red with blood. Lelldorin could not hold back the scream as the venom left his body, all three men holding tightly so he could thrash around and hurt himself more. The cup was empty now, but Polgara's quick command kept the men in place, "Keep him still, we need to keep doing this until the blood runs clean." She informed while refilling the cup with the herb infusion, leaving another dose in the pot on the fire.

By the time Lelldorin's blood was flowing pure red again, he was shaking from the pain and pale from blood loss, but his breathing was evening out and he wasn't sweating quite so badly. Galahad and Polgara worked together to get the bleeding stopped and the wounds wrapped. Polgara mixed a different medicine, this one with fresh cool water, and helped him drink it. It lowered Lelldorin into a twilight state of awareness, that way he wouldn't move around and reopen the wounds before they had time to heal.

"Is he going to be all right?" Garion asked in a scared voice, never coming quite so close to a friend dying before, just seeing the people trying to attack them die had been hard enough.

"He will live," Polgara told him quietly, tired from the stress of working on him, "It will take some time, and he won't be able to ride, but he should survive; we got the poison out in time."

The others came over when she said that, Belgarath in the lead, "We can't stay on top of this hill for as long as he needs to heal, a few days at the most. How do you think we should move him?"

"I'm not sure, but bouncing around in a saddle is only going to aggravate the wounds and spread any remaining poison before his body can eliminate it, if we pushed him too hard it would kill him." She told him firmly, not willing to compromise on that point; Lelldorin was not going to die just to save a few days.

"What about a litter of some sort? Pulled by the horses, maybe stabilized with a little help from one of you?" Silk suggested, "It would still be hard on him, but not quite as bad as a rough saddle."

Polgara stopped to consider the idea before replying, "It might work, but I don't think we dare use any more Will than we already have today, every Grolim in Arendia will know where we are at."

"Are there that many Grolims in Arendia?" Silk questioned, knowing Murgos had been spotted in higher numbers all over the West, but not sure how much that would correlate to Grolim numbers.

Belgarath answered for his tired daughter, "There is enough we better not chance it. It isn't simply the ones who live here, remember there are people tracking us just as we are tracking Zedar, it is why we have been so careful about what we say and where we say it. Any Grolim can pass as a Murgo if they need to."

"We are in the middle of nowhere, can a Grolim really find us?" Garion couldn't stop himself from questioning, especially since it seemed some of the others were just as confused as him.

"A good number of Grolims can use Sorcery Garion." Polgara informed him, "Some are better than others, but you can be sure the ones specifically tracking us will be among the strongest they have, and a powerful enough sorcerer can pick up the thoughts of others, especially if you are thinking about names and places. Also any use of Will in the vicinity sends up a flare showing exactly where we are, the more it is used, the stronger the flare."

"Right, so no stabilizing the litter," Silk got them back on track before the curious boy could ask more questions. "How many days will he need to rest before the litter would be effective?"

"At least two, three would be better," Polgara answered, seeing a few red spots already soaking through the bandages they placed over his wounds. Algroth venom was nasty stuff, even small traces worked to break down tissue and prevent clotting, she would have to check in a few hours and make sure another wash in the herb mixture wouldn't be needed.

Silk turned to Belgarath, the one who had been setting the pace and destination for most of their journey. "Can we last three days here?"

"We don't have much of a choice," Belgarath admitted, "I don't like losing so much time, but I like the thought of losing him even less."

An unlikely voice broke in, surprising Garion, "I may have a suggestion if thee would like to hear it." Mandorallen's speech was archaic and flowery, like an old medieval epic.

"Any suggestion would be welcome," Belgarath encouraged the newcomer.

"Allow the lad two days rest here, if he can stand the journey then it is only a few days ride to the next manor over. I may have to challenge our way in, but he could be well cared for there, and catch up once he heals." Mandorallen suggested, thinking about the Baron that didn't much like him, but he would honor the debt gained by the winner of a challenge if it came down to it.

Galahad was sure if Lelldorin was coherent enough to hear what was being discussed he would be protesting vehemently right now, suggesting an Asturian rebel stay with a Mimbrate Baron was kind of like suggesting you house gasoline with a lit match. "I don't think Lelldorin would like that plan much," He protested in the Archer's stead. He liked the Asturian, and he felt someone should at least speak for him a little as he couldn't very well defend himself right now.

"I know he won't," Belgarath admitted, and the others nodded to, it wasn't hard to spot the animosity between the Arends, kind of like a fire on a dark night. "Is this Baron a man who will take care of him without bias due to him being an Asturian?" He questioned the originator of the plan.

"He is a good man," Mandorallen assured, "He may not like it anymore than the lad shall, but he shall do it. A knight is only as good as his honor, if he refuses the boon asked from the victor of a challenge he would carry the stain for years to come."

"How do you know you will win? You haven't even challenged him yet." Durnik pointed out with his usual practicality.

None of them were prepared for the peels of laughter to erupt from the metal clad warrior, "Me, lose? I think not." He couldn't speak further on account of laughing so hard.

Durnik just look confused until Belgarath filled him in, "Mandorallen is a Baron himself, and as far as I know it he hasn't lost a challenge since gaining his title."

"Last I lost, I was a lad younger than the boy over there," Mandorallen explained with a nod towards Garion when explaining his age.

Galahad was the one to notice Garion wasn't paying attention to them anymore, he was looking out over the plain below them like he used to do with the fields at Faldor's farm. The snake-tongued man turned expecting to see empty air, instead a man, sat a top a black horse, stared at them. The rain drizzling down from the murky sky struck the ground below them as if it went right through the man and beast. Galahad knew who this was.

"Chamdar, I see we caught your attention," Galahad called challengingly towards the apparition, garnering the attention of the others. He had an arrow in place on his bow just incase, Chamdar was powerful, no telling if he could solidify himself for the few seconds it would take to kill one of the companions. If they died before their task was complete the prophecies would unravel.

The specter grinned languidly, making no move to charge or retreat, "You were making so much noise I simply had to come. You managed to find most of them Belgarath, excellent work, but I see some are missing. The Mother of the Race That Died, you have yet to solve that puzzle if I am correct. Others too must still be gathered."

"They will come when they are needed," Belgarath seemed to brush off his comments, but there was hate burning in the Eternal Man's eyes. "Did you set these foolish monsters on us?"

"Now why would I do that? Should I ever set a trap for you, then you would be down more than one companion, of that I can promise you. Algroths are nothing compared to what I could set upon you." Chamdar responded to the accusation with malice, he had more style then to set a pack of half-trolls on the company.

Galahad couldn't resist baiting him, "If you have such things under your control, why haven't you used them? I'm guessing your threat is nothing more than your appearance, vague, incorporeal, and no real danger to us." He followed his eldest brother in brushing off the Grolim, this was one he was just itching to do his worst on. A neat little arrow was not enough for this bastard, his death called for pain, but Garion had already claimed that even if the boy didn't realize the request would be honored.

Instead of fury as Galahad was expecting, a rich laugh rolled from the evil man, and he shifted his gaze to Polgara who stood firm, "How does my future Queen fair? Torak would be most displeased if his bride was harmed in any way."

"I will never be your Queen," Polgara spat back, standing tall, and crossing her arms in front of her, she would not back down from this man.

"Ah, but you are the highest of women, the most worthy to be bride to my God, in time you will come to him of your own free will. Wait and see Polgara, one day you will be my Queen, and all the Angaraks will bow to your likeness." Chamdar prophesized darkly, speaking aloud the task set before Polgara.

"If that day ever comes Grolim," She spoke the word like it was a curse, and to her it was, "Your head on a platter will be my first request, think of it as a wedding gift."

"If my god wishes it, I would willingly give my life for such a purpose, would you not for your own Master?" Chamdar inquired, not batting an eyelash at admitting he would die for Torak. It was ingrained in every living Angarak that the highest honor for the dragon God was death.

"I tire of this charade Chamdar," Galahad broke in, the verbal tennis match between Polgara and the Grolim forcing him to hold back his temper before he leveled half of Arendia. "Either fight us or leave, you have what you came for."

Chamdar chuckled, "I like you brat, so impatient. The time will come when we fight, but for now I will leave you. Work on that puzzle Belgarath, I am curious to see who she turns out to be." With his parting words the projected likeness of the Grolim dissipated into the misty rain, leaving a sour taste in Galahad's mouth, but relief in those watching.

"I truly hate that man," Galahad hissed to himself, the others over hearing.

"No argument from me," Belgarath agreed, "Now that he knows we are here, it isn't safe. Not even for the two days we thought we had. I'm sorry Pol, we have to move him."

"I don't like this," She was still waspish from her verbal spar with Chamdar, and the reminder of the choice that hung over her head.

Galahad lay a hand on her shoulder in comfort, "We can get him through. Chamdar knows we are here, if we use our Will we can make a litter that is more comfortable for him, we couldn't do something lengthy like stabilizing it, but any little bit should help. We move slowly, giving him rest often, and between the two of us we know enough pain killers and anti-venoms to keep him going until we reach the next Barony."

She took a deep breath, letting the anger go with it, finally once centered again she replied, "All right, it will have to do. One of us should stay next to him at all times, if he looks to be worsening we will have to stop and clean out the wounds again with the same mixture I did before. If he still doesn't get better in the next 24 hours we will have him drink a very small amount of it, and that should eliminate the last of the poison."

"Wait, if drinking it would heal him faster, why don't you just do that now?" Silk asked curiously, medicine interested him but he didn't know much beyond the basics.

"This is a very harsh medicine, it should only be ingested if it is an absolute necessity. This is a case where the medicine could very well be more deadly than the venom, it is best to try and get the venom out topically." Polgara explained as Belgarath and Galahad constructed the litter they would need. They generously padded it, and made it as stable as they could.

Barak and Durnik carried the injured Asturian to the litter, those two were the strongest, and they could move him with the least amount of jostling. Galahad pulled himself into his saddle first, telling Polgara as he went, "I'll watch him first, you could use some rest yourself." They all had practice dozing while riding, it was a necessary skill to have on this journey, she would get better rest in an actual bed, but this would have to do for now.

In the three days it took to reach the next Barony, Galahad came to a conclusion. He still disliked Mimbrates. If the general mumbling was anything to go by, he wasn't the only one who had a little too much of his flowery addresses to Polgara.

He would say one good thing about the Knight, he certainly lived up to his boasting. He managed to stop a war, a small one for Arendia, but still a war. It was just their luck the this Baron, and his next door neighbor, was feuding again. The way Mandorallen had explained it while they were riding to issue the Challenge was it was a very old argument that flared up every decade or so, no one was really sure what started it, only that no one really cared about finishing it. Mimbrates liked fighting too much.

Of course in past times, they didn't have a Grolim egging them on, but the timely intervention of Polgara, and Durnik's axe, had the trouble maker unmasked. In return for their help, one of the Barons agreed to take Lelldorin in and care for him, his youngest daughter arrived to take over the task.

One thing Galahad was sure of, once Lelldorin came around enough to notice the beauty of his nurse he may not be in such a rush to get well. She was a stunning creature, soft spoken, with a pleasant attitude. She proved to have a tad bit more brains than the male half of her race and listened to Polgara carefully, repeating back the instructions, and aptly identifying the medicines given to her for his care.

They all felt a bit better leaving him behind once they realized how competent his caretaker was, even Barak was overheard calling him a lucky dog considering how pretty the girl was.

Garion looked troubled though, and a bit depressed, Galahad rode up next to him and attempted to get him to talk, "What has you so upset? The Lady will take good care of Lelldorin, you shouldn't worry about him any more."

A guilty look crossed his nephew's face, "That isn't exactly what I am worried about." He admitted.

"Just what is going on?" Galahad asked worriedly, Lelldorin was a hotheaded rebel, there was no telling the schemes he had pulled Garion into.

"I made Lelldorin a promise, but I think with everything going on, I might need to break it." Garion didn't like the thought one little bit.

Galahad knew he had to handle this delicately or Garion would close himself off again, "Garion you are smart, and honest, if something is bothering you badly enough for you to consider breaking a promise you made to a friend than it is bad enough to be worth saying."

"You won't get him into trouble?" Garion's good sense was beginning to win out, that was good.

"I won't unless I have to. What has you so upset?" Galahad prodded, he had already told Garion he wouldn't lie to him, and he wasn't completely sure he could keep Lelldorin out of trouble if this was as big as he was afraid it was.

"When we were at Lelldorin's home he confided in me that there was a plan in place for an attempted assassination. I told him then it was a bad idea, but he took his time thinking about it. Right before we left him, he told me to do what I could to stop it. He realized I was right, and the rebels were wrong. It was like back on that battlefield, someone is giving them the ideas. If it was just a bunch of young rebels it probably wouldn't work, but they have been given a solid plan, they were going to wear foreign uniforms and make it look like someone else did it. It stands a very good chance of working if I don't do something to stop it." Once Garion had decided to talk, the story came spilling out, he was comfortable talking to his Uncle. This was the person who did his best to let him know what was going on, that helped him through the hard times, if he was going to confide in anyone it would be him.

Galahad had never been so glad they had taken the time to give Garion someone to cling to, he was aware the boy might never have told anyone if it weren't for him being there. "I'm glad you told me Garion. Between your Aunt, Grandfather, and I we can stop this, and we will try to keep Lelldorin out of it. If it can't be avoided then we will make sure they know he came clean and did not wish to participate any more."

"Thank you, I didn't know what I was going to do. I wanted to stop it, but wasn't sure how." Garion admitted, letting out a large sigh of relief now that the problem was being handled.

"Whenever you have trouble deciding whether you need to tell us something or not, please tell us. You don't have to do everything alone, this is something big enough you shouldn't try. Even Belgarath wouldn't do it alone, though he probably could if he had to, but the point is he wouldn't. We can't help you if we don't know you need help, and all we want to do is help you. That is what we are here for." Galahad was quick to assure, before urging his horse forward to let Belgarath and Polgara know what was going on. There was a plot to uncover and a rat to catch, at least Garion had warned them, with that they could be ready.


	10. Update Information

Unfortunately this is not a new chapter, but it is an update of sorts. I have gotten some very bad news. I have been diagnosed with Epilepsy. There will be a lot of changes in my life including lots of doctors, pills, and a shiny new medic alert ID around my neck. I went to the doctor this summer for a completely different problem and it lead them to this, but tracing it back I've probably had it since childhood, just didn't know it.

What these means for my stories is I may not be updating for awhile, or I may be inspired and need to distract myself and you could get flooded with chapters, I don't know yet. Please be patient with me while I adjust to the changes I need to make.

Thank you so much for reading and enjoying my stories, it is very much appreciated,

Shadow of an Echo


	11. Beginnings and Endings

**The One With The Serpent Tongue**

**Shadow of an Echo**

**Chapter Ten**  
**Beginnings and Endings**

Galahad had to make one observation about Hettar, that was one terrifying man when he was after a Murgo. The plot Garion had reluctantly confessed to him? Apparently the target had been the joint rulers of Arendia, and driving them was a Murgo, whether or not he was a Grolim didn't seem to matter as Hettar's blades made, well short wasn't the right word, easy work of getting rid of him.

Hettar had very deeply personal reasons driving his hatred of Murgos, and he didn't just kill them, he played with them a bit before he let them die. Galahad could understand, if you watched your parents be slaughtered by a Murgo raiding party when you were too young to do anything about it, you might have turned out the same way. He couldn't really say anything against it himself when his own hobby was decorating Grolim foreheads with his arrows. Explaining that one to Garion had caused a bit of confusion until it had been pointed out King Cho-Hag was Hettar's step father.

With crisis averted and the gratitude of the Arendish crown behind them, they set off for Tolnedra.

Galahad had to hide his grin at this destination, he knew exactly which member of their little group Belgarath was planning on encountering here. After all it wouldn't do if Garion was too frightened of his future queen to even look at her, it was best for them to at least meet once while Garion was still young and used to encountering new things at every turn.

It never failed to amuse Galahad just how sly Belgarath could be when he was setting up something, he was pretty sure the only other ones to suspect he had intentionally put them in a position for Garion to meet Ce'Nedra was Polgara and possibly Silk.

Too bad even Belgarath couldn't plan for fate to get involved. "I really don't think the Old Wolf thought this one through." Galahad was attempting to hide his laughter while conversing with Polgara. Their visit to the palace had created just the right diversion for the hotheaded young princess to get ideas into her pretty little head.

One hoodwinked tutor and a bad dye job later to hide her distinctive red hair, Princess Ce'Nedra was sneaking her way out of the palace. Only to bump once more into the party containing her destiny, even if she didn't know it yet.

"Sometimes Father does think himself into traps," Polgara agreed, her kaleidoscope eyes flashing blue with her amusement. "It's not like he can claim he didn't know what her task would be. She was bound to have something more to her than the typical spoiled royal."

"Garion is not going to know what hit him," Galahad observed.

This time Polgara didn't even bother to hide the laugh, "I have been matching up the right couples for so long this is nothing new to me. There have been a few times I have wondered if the Prophecies really knew what they were doing matching certain people, but in the end it worked out, it keeps things exciting at least."

Since it was Garion's duty to make sure the young girl was safe and had everything she might need, it was easy to observe the two of them as he responded to Polgara, "I have a feeling exciting is only going to begin to cover this one."

"True," She agreed, watching as the Princess's quick tongue bit into Garion, but instead of backing down as anyone raised around nobility would do out of habit, Garion argued back like he would to Zubrette an old friend of his from the farm he grew up on. The idea of bringing him there for his formative years was a brilliant one.

Silk pulled his horse up next to Galahad's, tipping his head to Polgara in a parody of politeness, "Taking in the sight of our little love birds are we?" He noted.

"Whatever could you be talking about Silk?" Galahad replied lazily, intrigued to see how much he had guessed.

The sharp-witted Drasnian narrowed his eyes, "Don't you think the trick Belgarath pulled was a bit obvious? Normally the Old Wolf has a touch more style than that."

Ah, now Galahad understood, Silk was frustrated out of professional pride. He wasn't talking to Galahad now, he was speaking to Viper, one spy to another, "He's doing it for Garion." Galahad didn't see any harm in telling Silk, as long as it didn't get back to Garion himself. "Garion is smart and picks up patterns quickly, he's got the makings to be one of us if he wanted to be, but he's probably too honest for most parts of the job. Belgarath has been teaching Garion how to use his strengths since he was a young child, at first it was just how to snatch an extra roll before supper, now he is teaching him to observe. The thing is, Garion learns better if he doesn't realize he is being taught. We learned long ago all we need to do is give him the pieces, and he finds his own way of putting them together."

"I knew it!" The sudden waspish exclamation, and the departure of Polgara's horse had Silk wide-eyed, but Galahad just laughed, something he avoided with the hiss making it oddly distorted.

Silk pulled himself together quickly, "What was that about?"

The laughing stopped, but Galahad still had a wide grin on his youthful appearing face, "Polgara has always known Belgarath was teaching Garion how to steal, but this was the first time I've admitted within her hearing that he got Garion to steal from the kitchen!"

"He must be good if Polgara didn't catch him," Silk contemplated, running a hand through his well trimmed beard.

"He's not bad," Galahad indulged the curiosity, "Better I think than people would expect since he doesn't seem the type. Oh and as Belgarth found out, he is a really, really good liar when he wants to be."

At that one Silk looked at him incredulously, "We are talking about the same boy right?"

"Think about it," Galahad urged, "Anyone worth their salt would not trust a Drasnian with a code name, or a man who can't even speak correctly, but who is going to question the sincerity of a boy who looks like he's never even heard a lie in his life much less told one? As far as I know Garion has only told three major lies since we started this journey, but they have all come to light by now anyway; his conscious gets to him eventually. That's what I mean by he has the makings to be one of us, but is far too honest. I was a little worried in Arendia though, the way he was raised at the farm, if you can do something yourself, you do. He might have tried to stop it without getting Lelldorin in trouble. I caught several times where he considered lying, but truth won out."

"Can you tell when he is lying?" Silk had his eyes trained on the bickering youths riding ahead of them, the speed of his racing thoughts showing in his body language.

Galahad shrugged, "I can usually tell when he is hiding something, but like I said, he is really good at it. Just because I know he is lying doesn't mean I know anymore than anyone else does about what he is trying to cover up."

Belgarath's voice broke into their conversation, "Halt for a moment, we need to talk before we enter the next forest."

Ce'Nedra looked around sharply, recognition registering on her face, at the tall spreading oak trees untouched by woodcutters. "You are taking us through the wood of the Dryads?"

"Yes," Belgarath informed, "She's right, this is the wood of the Dryads. A place most travelers try to avoid, but as long as we're careful we should make it through unharmed."

"What is a Dryad?" Durnik asked cautiously, the algroths still on his mind.

"One of the more beautiful monsters," Belgarath admitted, "But you don't want to cross them."

Almost as soon as the sentence was out of his mouth he knew he has made a mistake, Ce'Nedra's disgusted huff could be heard by everyone in the group, "Monsters! Is that what you think? Dryads are not monsters! Do I look like a monster to you?" She challenged.

"Wait, you're a Dryad? Then how come you're a princess?" This was a rather confused Garion, but he wasn't the only one.

"I'm a Borune," She responded like that answered everything.

Seeing the still dumbfounded looks, Belgarath stepped in, "A few generations back, a Dryad married into the Borune line. So she's right, since she is a female descendant of a Dryad she is one too, as long as she has a tree planted for her in this forest."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong here, but I thought Dryads only had female descendants, there isn't a male half of the species." Silk spoke up again.

Belgarath went to answer but he was beaten to it by Ce'Nedra, "If you cut down a Dryad's tree it kills us, but if we never have a tree planted for us then we are not much different than human's, and that goes for anyone descended from us. When the Dryad princess came to the Borune duke they made a deal, the Borunes would protect the forest from woodcutters, but the first child born to the Dryad would never have a tree and stay with the Borunes. It is said the Dryad chose to stay with the duke and her daughters until the dukes death, taking the full blooded ones back to the forest after he passed, but that might just be a nursery tale for Borune children."

"It isn't" Belgarath assured, "I was there for some of it, and while the arrangement might have started as a way of protecting the forest in an unbreakable way, she did grow to love the Borune duke. He was a very good man and treated her, and all of her daughters, well."

"Do you have a tree I there Ce'Nedra?" Garion asked curiously gesturing to the forest.

A look of pain passed her face, "I don't know, father wouldn't let me come here, it was too dangerous for me to travel with the succession so close. The palace is too far away from the forest for me to know for sure."

"How will you know?" Durnik's big heart was breaking for the girl.

"If I have a tree, it will call me, we will be linked together." Ce'Nedra couldn't explain it any deeper than that, you had to feel it to know what she meant.

"We can't stand here any longer, as risky as the forest can be, the open is more dangerous," Belgarath interrupted. "Okay, I don't know how likely it is that we will see a Dryad, they keep watch over people in their forest but only show themselves if they have something to say. If we do see them you may be tempted to underestimate them, don't. They are far older then they look, smart, cunning, and extremely agile. They use arrows manly to subdue travelers, so listen to Galahad if he tells you something feels off. Oh, Durnik stow your axe away now, we will not be cutting down any branches, don't even let the handle be visible. No fires, a small cook fire maybe, but Pol, if you could maybe avoid that as much as possible it would be a good idea."

Polgara's eyes narrowed, "Let me guess Old Wolf, your last visit here didn't end well?"

He looked reluctant to answer, until his daughter's glare wore him down, "I came in June." Was all he would say as he started the group moving into the Dryad forest.

Too bad Galahad was laughing, Ce'Nedra was hiding a giggle, and Polgara looked to be contemplating murder. "How long have you been working with the Dryads, and you still come in nesting season?" She accused.

"I thought it might be over and I could speak to Xantha! I might have miscalculated by a few weeks," He ducked his head as Polgara launched into a diatribe at him about courtesy.

"Nesting season?" Barak asked, "Is that what I think it is?"

"It's when Dryads have our children." Ce'Nedra answered the imposing Cherek. "The most dangerous time to be traveling through these woods, Dryads don't take kindly to threats, especially not with vulnerable newborns."

"I didn't realize they would have a specific season for that," Barak admitted.

Blinking at the unusual interest, Ce'Nedra shrugged, "It's not so much necessary as customary. If children are born at the beginning of summer they have the warmest most plentiful time to get a head start on life. We are capable of having them at any time though."  
"Makes sense," Barak observed.

Durnik interrupted, "I hardly think this is a proper conversation to be having with an unmarried girl." He chastised.

"I was only curious, I have two girls myself, I wasn't intending any impropriety," Barak defended himself, but he did drop the topic.

When the chattering of people cut off, there wasn't a distinct lowering of volume. These woods were alive with the sounds of birds and beasts. All around the party of travelers the sounds of nature ruled. There was even a point Galahad leaped from his saddle to slither around for awhile, the wildness of this untouched by human hands forest getting to him.

Belgarath watched the display simply shaking his head, "Wait until we get to Nyissa."

"You never said we were going through there!" Silk protested, the same wild-eyed expression back from earlier.

Belgarath took in the nearly hyperventilating spy, "I meant to go through it by boat, if I have my way we will not touch land. Won't matter to Galahad he always finds some excuse to wonder off when we are in Nyissa. You shouldn't have anything to worry about though."

"What's wrong Silk?" Durnik asked in concern.

"I hate snakes! The ground there practically moves with them no matter where you look. You can't get away from them. I'm perfectly content to leave a snake be if it leaves me, but that's practically impossible in Nyissa. I don't think I've had a single mission there where I wasn't bitten at least once." Silk ranted.

A hissing chuckle came from the back of the group, as Galahad reappeared, and swung himself back in the saddle, "Ah, but you've never gone through Nyissa with me now have you?" The accent in his voice never so prominent.

"What difference is that going to make?" Not Silk, Barak.

Galahad turned to take in the Cherek, "The hiss isn't just for emphasis you know, I truly can't turn it off, downplay it maybe, but I can't get rid of it. Because unlike other Will and Word users that switch into animals, I don't just understand the language of the animal when I switch back, I can still talk to them."

"You can actually speak to snakes, and they understand you?" Barak asked in awe. "Like Hettar does with horses?"

A glance back to the quiet Algar before replying, "No, his is a far more impressive gift actually. He can link his mind with theirs, he doesn't just speak with horses, he becomes one with them. I was simply born with the ability to talk to snakes, to me it is a language like any other; the same as we are speaking now."

"You know, I'm beginning to be glad the people in this group with the powerful and unusual gifts are also humble," Barak observed, "Because if we all had the egos of Silk I don't think this group would survive." He needled.

"Hey!" The not unexpected protest came swiftly, as Silk leaped nimbly out of his saddle towards Barak, with the intention of knocking the much larger man to the ground.

Barak was ready for it, and caught Silk around the middle, tossing the agile man to the ground instead, where he tucked his body carefully and came up in a roll; narrowly escaping injury. "Sorry Silk, you're too predictable when you're angry, you need new tricks!" Barak laughed throatily.

Galahad was a bit preoccupied watching the way Silk had been able to move like that to cushion his fall. He had seen anyone move that well in a very long time. The Academy in Drasnia trained its people well, but they could only go as far as the student was physically capable of, it look like in Silk they had found a brilliant canvas to work with. He was certainly enjoying the view, even if he was attempting to keep it to himself.

Silk was grumbling and swearing as he clambered back into the saddle not bothering to use any of the grace and skill he had just displayed. Rule number one of the academy, if you had a hidden talent, it should remain hidden until needed, otherwise what was the point?

The next few days of traveling passed much the same way, the companions starting to relax as they teased each other, figuring out where and how far someone could be pushed. It was an interesting couple of days, and a much need break after the shocks and sometimes disappointments of Arendia.

There was even a nice little meeting and a couple of threats from the Dryads thrown in there. That had been interesting for Galahad, he had never ventured into the Dryad forest personally, so they hadn't met him before. The nature spirits were incredibly intrigued with him, and with Hettar, they had picked up on their connection with their respective animals immediately after meeting them.

Galahad left the grove where they had met the queen with an invitation to return at the start of breeding season, and he wouldn't be surprised if Hettar had received the same. Dryads weren't above selective breeding, and considering they needed human males to further their bloodlines, they picked the ones with traits that interested them.

Galahad did know one thing for certain he was keeping the tidbit of information about the invitation to himself, or Polgara and Belgarath were never going to let him live it down.

Things changed after they left Queen Xantha's grove. There was darkness in the air, the wildness that once drew Galahad was now repelling him, and he felt like there was something stalking the group.

He patrolled around them by day, Polgara by night, and Belgarath filled in incase the other two missed something. So of course it had to be during a night patrol, when Belgarath met up with Polgara to report in, that Garion saw them. The switch back and forth from wolf and owl, the rushing half-thunder sound, and the conversation about looming danger all pairing together to make one nervous young man.

Galahad couldn't say he was surprised when he was jolted awake by Garion bolting into their shared tent, hitting the blankets with his entire body trembling. Once he had gotten the story out of him, and knowing there was nothing he could do or say to stop this pain, he just put his hand on Garion's still trembling back, and sat up with him as he came to terms with what he saw.

When the silver glow of predawn started to light up the tent canvas, Garion spoke, "This is a dream."

"No Garion, this is not a dream, some of the things you have seen and have yet to see may seem strange, wonderous, even miraculous; but always remember this is your reality." Galahad told him calmly and strongly. "There are people that go through their entire lives and never see anything interesting, while here you lay a fourteen year old boy, and what have you already been asked to do? Fight, survive, run, and all for a goal you weren't sure of and with people you didn't know or trust. This is life Garion, and it is much better than a dream. Because many people see dreams as soft sweet things that cushion you against dark times, when sometimes the only dreams people can remember are nightmares. At least in life you have the power to change your fate, in a dream you are stuck with whatever the dream weavers create."

"How do you always know what to say?" Garion asked quietly, his body no longer trembling.

"A long time ago I was just like you, and I was given a very difficult choice. That choice lead me here, and eventually to protecting you. I know what to say, because I remember what I needed to hear, and I've had time to realize when it was anger talking and when I truly was strong enough to handle it." Yes, he knew he was creating a spark of curiosity in Garion that would not be doused, but maybe it was time for his story to come out, if it would help Garion, he would tell it. Not tonight, but in time.

"A choice? What choice?" Galahad was right, curious until the end.

A light smile, "Give up everything I had in order to protect it, or go back and fight more possibly losing it anyway. That's all you're getting from me for now. Although I will tell you this, sometimes when we are faced with the impossible, a small solution is the answer. Our choices make us who we are, and it is our choices that will make all the difference in the end."

Garion had a feeling he was just told something incredibly important, but he didn't understand it completely yet. There was so many riddles involved with this journey he was getting used to only partially understanding anything someone was saying.

"Now come on, get up and dressed, then we should help your Aunt Pol with breakfast." Galahad advised, giving him something to think about other than dwelling.

"Good idea," Garion agreed, before moving to follow Galahad's suggestion.

That was the day the waiting malevolence struck. Warriors, animated from mud and reeds, attacked from the banks of the river. Swords couldn't kill them, Durnik's axe could cut off a limb but it didn't kill the creatures, Mandorallen's lance did nothing, even an arrow to the eye didn't bring the things down. "Sorcery! These things are not alive!" Galahad called as he forwent his precious bow, drawing his little used saber, mimicking Silk as they went for the reeds holding the mud together; hoping that if they disconnected enough of them the mudmen might be forced to stop.

Nothing was working, and he saw one of them closing in on Garion, the boy had been fighting well, but the rest of the fully trained warriors were struggling there was no way Garion could cope; not yet at least.

Testing the wind, he screamed for Polgara and Belgarath in his mind, the two of them already linking up, letting him join, together the three of them pulled a rainstorm towards the Dryad forest. It wasn't easy, tampering with the weather, and it was one of the things frowned upon by most Will users since it altered the natural order, but they were desperate.

The rain came slowly, darkening the sky, hitting their skin, and finally dissolving the mudmen. Nothing but lumps of clay and reeds were left, well clay, reeds, and snakes.

Galahad watched the departing snakes until he spotted a specific one, grabbing it up carefully, "What interest does Salmissra have in these woods?" He hissed quickly, the syllibant words catching the attention of the other companions, they turned to watch him earn his prophesized name.

"Mistress wants the boy. Others wants him, pay high toll for boy." The snake was young, and obviously reared in the palace to be making such disjointed sentences. It was a defense tactic the palace had deployed, probably since learning about Galahad.

"Who hired Salmissra to take the boy?" Galahad demanded. One thing Salmissra did not know, a snake would almost always answer a speaker over just another human, no matter how well pampered that snake was being raised.

"Don't know name. Smelled like dead land, dry air, like old blood." The little snake analyzed.

"Dead land, dry air, and old blood," Galahad repeated in the common tongue, "Sounds like a Murgo, no sounds like a Grolim if you still scented blood on him with their sacrifices. Little friend, did this man who hired Salmissra have a scar on each cheek?"

The snake nodded, "Yes, he did, deep and old."

"So at the very least a Murgo, and probably a Grolim. When were you supposed to deliver the boy?" Galahad asked, worried about the little snake's safety.

"As soon as we could, man provided warriors, we were to give directions." The snake informed.

"We can't let you go back to the palace, Salmissra would forgive you, the man who hired her would not." Galahad rationalized. "You want to be free little one?"

"I have never been free," The snake was panicking, "I don't know how to hunt or fight, mates would run from me. Freedom mean death!"

"Okay, okay little one, you can stay with me," Galahad promised before the creature gave itself a heart attack, "Do you have a name?"  
"Zade, daughter of Zith," There was pride in the young snake's hisses at the introduction. "Mother is the pride of Salmissra's head Eunuch, there is no higher spot."

Galahad finally looked up to his companions to find them all starring at him with varying levels of shock or amusement, "What?" He asked defensively.

"You weren't kidding about that talking to snakes thing were you?" Barak broke the awkward silence.

"No I wasn't." Galahad responded testily, "And it came in handy. This is Zade, a palace serpent. I recognized her breed as a very rare variety that is only bred and reared by palace officials. We have a problem Belgarath, we need to go into Nyissa and see Salmissa she is courting Murgos and this time I'm nearly positive it was a Grolim. Zade smelled blood on him, and it was the man who provided the warriors, you and I both know this was not a natural creature we faced."

"Do you know what the Grolim was after?" Belgarath asked gravely.

"He's after Garion." No use lying, that would just put Garion in more danger, he needed to know why they might have to put some extra security measures around him.

"Why me?" Oh goody, Belgarath's favorite phrase.

Quick decision, and it was still the truth as far as it went, "Zade doesn't know. It could be as simple as a delay tactic to keep us from getting to what we're searching for, or something deeper, until we know who is looking for you, we won't know more."

"Let's get moving," Belgarath decided, "I don't like staying where an enchantment was broken. It can draw the one who created it."

There was that foreboding feeling again, coursing all the way through Galahad's veins, and warnings bells rang in his mind. Something just wasn't right.

"Hey Galahad, aren't you going to let the snake go?" Silk asked looking at the serpent warily.

"No, she's staying with me, she was a pampered palace serpent her whole life, we can't let her go back or the Grolim orchestrating the attack could kill her, and she can't survive on her own." Galahad explained.

Silk looked at the tiny green Zade and visibly attempted to calm himself, "Is she venomous?"

A teasing smirk appeared on Galahad's face, "Very. There is a reason her species is so rare, and prized. She is one of the most toxic snakes in the world."

"And you're keeping her as a pet!" He protested.

Galahad glared at him, "No! I'm keeping her as friend. She is still a very young snake, and I'm a speaker, she will listen to me. She won't harm anyone unless I tell her to."

Silk just shook his head, "I really hope you know what you're doing."  
"If it makes you feel better, I have fought and won against something much bigger and deadlier than her. You'll be safe." The Basilisk was something he would never forget. Tiny little Zade was nothing to fear in comparison.

"Did you try to tame that one too?" Silk asked in curious dread.

"Hmm no, he was too far gone and being controlled by a different speaker. Plus I was twelve. I didn't think to try and tame it, I was too busy running to save my skin. I did stick a sword in its skull. I wish it hadn't come to that, it wasn't the beast's fault human's had caused it so much misery." Galahad was surprising himself at honestly considering taming the Basilisk, that would have been interesting. Voldemort had done it while he was in Hogwarts, could he have done the same?

Too bad his musings were interrupted, by an ambush set up for them about a mile down the river from the mudmen attack. This time it was humans, Murgos, that used their shock and fatigue from the previous battle to get the upper hand. Everyone was disabled, well almost everyone, there was one improperly secured but it wasn't obvious until a familiar face showed himself.

Chamdar had found them.

Zade hissed in his ear, "That's him! That's the man!"

Everything after that happened in slow motion, Garion got lose, was right against Chamdar; hesitated a moment before he was told the murderer of his parents was standing in front of him.

Garion's palm, the one marked with the sign of the Orb, smacked into Chamdar's cheek, and Galahad had a moment of intuition, calling out, "Stop!"

It was too late, Garion's rage had been bottled up for too long and every bit of unease Galahad had been feeling for the past few days came to a head as he made the command, "Burn!"

Galahad's heart broke as Garion's first act of deliberate sorcery was not to create something, but to watch this wicked man burn beneath his hand. The echoes of Professor Quirrel burning beneath his own hands returning to his mind as he watched Garion hold on until there was nothing but ash and wet leaves.

Garion looked at the ashes, at his hand, repeated the action, and then bolted.

The men holding the others let go and ran too, in the opposite direction of Garion after witnessing the display.

"I'll find him." Galahad promised as he ran swiftly after Garion, the image of the burning Chamdar still haunting him, and if it was following him; it must be nearly killing Garion.

Fire could cleanse, it burned away sins and memories, but it was brutal and ruthless, it left nothing in its path, in using fire you chose the path of emptiness. He had to get to Garion quickly, he had to bring him around, and soon, or he would learn to fear himself. Just like he had done long ago when everyone accused him of being a freak, a liar, a murderer. He had to get to him. He was the only one that might stand a chance.


End file.
